


Brainwashed

by solobarnes



Series: The Fallen Warriors Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Fluff, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hydra (Marvel), Non-Graphic Violence, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Female Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Siblings, Shapeshifting, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 79,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solobarnes/pseuds/solobarnes
Summary: Originally published April-July of 2019 on Wattpad.Bucky Barnes was turned into a weapon; one so deadly and uncontrollable, that even the people who created him fear him. When HYDRA falls, Bucky slowly starts to remember who he is, beginning a search for answers about himself and his past. This search leads him to a young HYDRA agent he has a history with, if only he could remember what that history is.Soroya Roberts was taken from her family as a child, experimented on and trained to do one thing: kill. She is not only a skilled fighter and an excellent marksman, but she can do something no one else can; shapeshift. When HYDRA falls and Soroya is finally free, she will start a search for her family who have been missing for 14 years, as well as the answers she so desperately craves about her powers. Her search for answers leads her to a man she hoped she would never see again, a man who may be more than he appeared to be when they last met.As Soroya and Bucky go on their desperate search, they will find that their past is more complicated than they thought, and that the peace they crave can be achieved in the most unexpected way.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Fallen Warriors Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111508
Kudos: 8





	1. Broken

**PART 1: THE PAST**

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Steve. His name is Steve. I don't know why I know this, but I know this for a fact. I stare down at him for a moment, watch the blood trickling from his mouth, see the bruises and cuts, making his face swollen. Parts of his uniform are soaked in blood, and the dirt on him is beginning to harden.

I lean down a few inches, starring at his chest. To my relief, I find he is still breathing. I don't know why this brings me comfort, but it does. I see the water begin to pour out of his mouth, and I hear the sounds of coughing and the pain register in his face.

Panic springs into my chest, and I feel my legs begin to back away from him. I don't know whether the sight of me would make him get aggressive or want to talk to me, but either way, I know I can't face him.

I wipe my hand over my face and find that there is some blood dripping from my temple. I also have a slightly wicked headache, but I know that's not from the head injury. It's like my very skull is in pain. I lean against a tree a few feet in front of me, feeling my breaths get shallower by the minute. I try to take in deep breaths, needing to focus. I need to get out of here. I look around for something, anything that can get me out of this place.

I couldn't go back to my base or any other HYDRA base, not after what I just did. If they found out I saved the enemy...I can't even bear the thought. I look up to see smoke covering most of the sky, bringing me a mixture of guilt and horror. Even if I tried to go back, I have a strong feeling every HYDRA base will be vacant. There's no way HYDRA can continue after the events of today; the whole world knows of us now.

I force my legs to move, but the act is painful and takes most of my concentration. I keep trying to get my breathing back to normal, but my head is swarming with fear, confusion, and the image of Steve Rogers. All I can do now is try to find someplace to lie low.

That phrase Rogers said to me has been knocking around the sides of my head so much that I can physically feel it. I know I have heard that phrase before, and as soon as he said it, it was as if I was waking up from a deep sleep. It was like I had been trapped in a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare.

This all feels too real. Too real, too painful, too confusing. I can't think about it anymore. I can't afford to right now.

I don't know how long I've been walking, could be minutes, or could be hours. If I don't find someplace soon, someone might recognize me, and whether they are S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA, I'll end up dead or in a jail cell no matter what. A few yards away, I let out a sigh of relief as I see a small building with a sign that says, 'Convenient Store.'

My training tells me I shouldn't take the risk, but I ignore that instinct and go inside. I can't walk around dressed the way I am now; covered in blood and dirt, with my metal arm making me stick out like a sore thumb.

I push the door open and spot two people inside; one is a middle-aged woman, with a look of shock and apprehension over her face. The other is a man about my age, who drops a bag of cakes at the sight of me.

"Do you have clothes? A jacket and some pants?" I ask, wincing when I hear how hoarse my voice sounds.

"In the back." The woman says quietly, pointing with a shaking finger towards a square rack against the wall, holding jackets, pants, and t-shirts.

I grab onto a black jacket, a green t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. I don't check the sizes but use my eyes to see that they should fit me. I begin to walk towards the door, but my eyes stop on bottles of water in the refrigerated area. I walk over towards the fridge door and grab four bottles. I also pick up random bags of things I assume is food. I place all of these items on the counter, watching the young man stare me down in utter terror.

"Do you have a bag?" I ask, staring right back at him, hoping this will be enough to make him forget I don't have money to pay him.

Without leaving my gaze, the young man hands me a plastic bag. I shove the items into this bag and use my shoulder to push through the door. I need to move as quickly as possible, who knows how long until that man or woman calls someone to investigate the strange bloodied man with a metal arm that shoplifted.

After a few minutes of walking, I find a bridge covering a small creek. Once I make sure no one is near, I hop down off the bridge and make my way under it. I begin to feel my wet clothes weighing down on me, as well as goosebumps spread across my body as I peel my bloody vest off, muffling my moans from the pain. I slip the shirt on and take a moment to appreciate the warmth as I put the jacket over top of it. Once I have my pants on, I lean against the bridge and take a drink of the water, opening a bag of food called Doritos.

I take in the sounds of the cars passing overhead and the water of the creek rushing by at my feet. This was the first time in so long that I have been on my own, truly on my own.

I have no organization to answer to, no mission, no purpose, no home. I thought I knew what I was. I thought I knew what I had to do and how I had to do it. But within minutes, because of one man, everything I thought I knew has been blown away like a paper bag in a gust of wind.

With nowhere to go and no one to count on, the only thing I have is myself. And I need to figure out who that is. Whether I am who Rogers says I am or Hydra has been right all along, I need to find out. I guess that can be classified as my new mission.


	2. Captain America

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

There are too many people here. Too many curious gazes that keep falling in my general direction. Someone could notice, someone could recognize me, and then it will be the end. I have been on the run before, but I was better off then because I knew who was after me or if someone was after me at all.

Better to stay hidden no matter what. When having a life like mine, it's always better to act like someone is trying to kill you.

I had robbed a few more stores within these last few days, acquiring; a backpack, a notebook and pencil, some matches, a flashlight, a blanket, more bottles of water, food, and a flyer talking about the Captain America exhibit in a museum near where I was hiding out.

The first place to start figuring out who Steve Rogers is seems to be here. I look at a large map on the wall of the museum that shows where all the exhibits are. It shows the Captain America exhibit is down the third hall past the Vietnam exhibit. I spot the sign that says 'exhibition hall three' and begin to walk casually down it. As I do so, I see pictures and items from the Vietnam exhibit, and something about it seems familiar.

I make it to the Captain America exhibit, where every wall, poster, and screen is filled with the face of Steve Rogers. There is a mural of Rogers standing side by side with several different men, with the uniforms of each man underneath. I notice the suit for Rogers is missing, but that is not what grabs my curiosity; it's the picture of myself standing beside him. My eyes drop to the deep blue shirt, jacket, brown pants, and boots below it. I can't help but stare at it knowing it's mine.

The flash of an image forms in my brain at the sight of those clothes. I see a tired and war-torn Steve Rogers in front of me, thousands of men surrounding him and I as I say the words; 'let's hear it for Captain America'

I feel slightly startled by that flash in my mind. I try not to look too alarmed as I walk around the exhibit more, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. Even if I have doubts about what I just saw in my head, there is no denying the mural and clothes are evidence I used to know Steve Rogers.

I continue to walk through the hall, reading the different screens and plaques to find any information about myself. During this search, I do learn an awful lot about Rogers. He was a captain in the United States Army during World War II, where he made many accomplishments, including the liberation of captured POWs. He was also responsible for taking down several well known HYDRA bases and was responsible for killing their leader at the time, Johann Schmidt.

As I continue to read through the exhibit, I find what I've been looking for; an entire wall about myself, with a picture of me blown to a large size. I look over the board and begin to read, shocked to find the information I see;

A Fallen Comrade:

Steve Rogers and James Barnes (better known as Bucky Barnes) were best friends since childhood. Barnes and Rogers have been inseparable from a young age, following into adulthood that survived even the horrors of war. When the United States joined WWII, Barnes became Sergeant of the 107th Infantry unit. Rogers had been denied a place in the army several times before finally being enlisted once he met Dr. Abraham Erskine, who got him a spot in the military in exchange for him undergoing the injection of a serum that made him the super soldier he is. After undergoing training, he eventually received the serum, giving him enhanced physical abilities, senses, and intelligence. After hearing of Barnes being M.I.A., Rogers infiltrated a HYDRA base to not only free all the allied POWs that had been captured but found a tortured and experimented on Barnes being held there as well. After returning all the missing men to camp, Rogers stepped into a significant role in the army, being followed alongside his men, the howling commandos, which included Barnes. The men fought many battles together, succeeding in their endeavors even against high odds. On one mission though, during the infiltration of a HYDRA to capture Dr. Arnim Zola, Barnes, unfortunately, fell to his death. Even after the passing of his life long friend, Rogers and the commandos never forgot Barnes and fought for his memory.

Steve Rogers (top left photo) July 4th, 1918 -  
James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (top left photo) March 10th, 1917 - February 15th, 1944

My eyes glance up at the moving picture of the two of us. Someone off-camera is asking us something, but whatever it was, it made both of us laugh.

So Rogers wasn't lying. I did know him, apparently better than anyone else.

My eyes fall onto the name Arnim Zola. I feel a sense of familiarity flow through me. Another memory surfaces into my brain, an older man with little to no hair and glasses smiling down at me, telling me something that I cannot decipher.

I walk away from the board of Rogers and me, searching for other information on Arnim Zola. In a way, I can't explain that that name means something to me. I thank the universe at this moment for the convenience of the museum, finding an article on Dr. Zola a few plaques away:

Dr. Arnim Zola was a Swiss scientist who worked for HYDRA until his death. He worked on several forms of weapons and serums used on HYDRA members and Allied POWs alike. Records say he died in early 1972.

From what I know now, I'm supposed to be dead. I fell into a ravine, so either something or someone caught me or someone managed to save my life. There isn't any recording of me receiving any treatment that Rogers did, so did I receive my abilities before or after that fall on the train?

I now feel the weight of all this information growing. Not only was Rogers right about my past, but he was right about myself too. There was a time I didn't do things like this; I didn't look over my shoulder at every glance and second guess who was my friend and my enemy. There was probably a time I didn't have enemies at all.

I read some more about Rogers, but not anything that goes too personal; just descriptions and video recordings of his different missions during WWII. Watching him in these videos, seeing him burst down doors, disarm guards, and cut through people like they're weeds, makes me think of myself. He and I are not that different. He and I both fight for a cause. All I catch myself thinking of is why we ended up on opposite ends of the scale.

My feet stop at another mural, one where I am aiming my gun at some unknown aggressor. I tilt my head slightly and stare at my face. It's determined, young, still full of hope and light. Rogers is in the painting as well; he is next to me as he is in all the other pictures and paintings I see in this exhibit. Where I went, he went. The board had said we had been inseparable since childhood. Now more than ever, I believe he is one of the many people who will be coming after me.

Not being able to take looking at the items and pictures anymore, I begin to exit the exhibit. However, something makes me stop and turn to my left. My eyes catch the board dedicated to Rogers and me. I am again met with the image of me cheering for him, surrounded by the other soldiers, the latter clasping him on the back and calling him a hero. He was indeed.

I don't know if Rogers will attempt to find me or if he'll try to leave our now unearthed past behind him. I assume he will. Even not knowing him like I used to, I can see he isn't the kind to give up on people easily. Especially since he was willing to die the other day in order to keep me alive.

I hope I don't run into him on my mission to find answers, not until I'm ready. I will face Rogers again, but it will be as the man he once knew, or not at all. Because if I can't reclaim my own lost identity, what else do I have to live for?


	3. Beginnings

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

I cannot feel anything. I stare up at the cloud-filled sky, watching as flakes of snowfall effortlessly down towards the earth and onto my face. My body is dead; my legs and arms both useless objects at my sides, my chest barely rising and falling. I manage to blink as a flake falls onto my eye, but that's all I can muster to do. All I can do is lie here and wonder why I am not dead.

I hear people's voices; most of what they are saying is muffled by something other than distance. I try to lift my head to see who is making this noise, to see anything, but I cannot bear the strength to do so. Two masked figures tower over me after a few moments, their muffled voices caused by black masks.

"The lucky son of a bitch. Did he fall from the train?"

"Must have," one of the masked men say, peering down at me. "What should we do with him?"

"You heard Schmidt; all Allied soldiers are to be taken in alive for questioning."

"This one is half dead already."

"Orders are orders. Now grab his legs. It will take both of us to lug him inside."

-

I wake with a jolt, touching the ground firmly beneath me, digging my nails into the wood to make sure I am back in reality. To most, these resurfacing scenes would be appreciated, but to me, they only confuse me more. I don't know what's real or fake anymore.

"Good morning," the kid says, plopping himself into his swivel desk chair, handing me a mug of coffee. "I thought you could use something to wake you up."

I nod to him, accepting the mug and trying to down it as quickly as I can. "How much longer until I can have what I need?" I ask, standing up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

"I'm expecting Rob any minute," the kid says, placing his hands in the air in defense. "Fake IDs aren't easy to make, you know. They require a lot of skills. Not many people can fool those fancy airport guards. What do you need it for anyway?"

"I already paid you. So please be quiet and let me have what I came here for." I say, tightening my grip on my pack. This doesn't go unnoticed. This makes the kid walk hastily out of the room, claiming to check on its progress.

He returns a few moments later, carrying a small blue bag. "In here are your ID and passport," he says, watching me hesitantly as I take the bag from him. "I hope it is to your satisfaction."

I look inside the bag and bring out the ID. It has a picture of myself, next to the name; James Bykov. It claims I am a 30-year-old Russian citizen. I look over the passport as well, slightly impressed with how much this low life kid has managed to do with his friends in his basement.

"This will do," I say, walking past him and stalking out of the door. It had taken a lot to get such a small but essential item. Low life's like this kid only care about one thing; money and they don't care where you get it from. I can't count the number of small stores called 7/11's I have stolen from. It wasn't a total burden, though. I think I have acquired an endless supply of mars bars and Twinkies to suffice me for the next decade.

I open the kid's door, closing it gently behind me and beginning to walk hastily down the sidewalk. If all goes to plan, I shall be on a plane to Russia by tonight. I have enough money to buy my ticket and rent a car, but after that my money will do no more than buy more Twinkie's.

All members of Hydra knew the locations of bases, but it was rare they knew the location of safe houses. Every Hydra special forces agent is told the site of a safe house, which includes all the essentials that would make you drop off the face of the earth within the hour.

I need to get to that safe house. There I'll find money, a list of contacts, other Hydra locations, and another set of identification that may help me more in my mission of discovery than me pretending to be James Bykov. Once I have acquired those things, I'm on the hunt for information. There are Hydra bases hidden throughout the world, but there are only a few that I know for a fact I have been to. It will be useful to start there, find whatever I can. Perhaps new memories will resurface and show me other locations that would assist me, but my mind has been unreliable as of late.

I find a bench, sitting next to a large lawn that has some small children running around on it. I sit down and place my backpack next to me, fishing for the notebook and pencil. I write down the memory I had seen in my dream, being as detailed as I possibly can. I am still doubtful whether these are real memories, but it's better to have it written down anyways. If they're false, then I have something to compare them to for real memories. If they're real...then I am taking steps closer to remembering who I am.

One of the children stops their galavanting and looks at me curiously. I notice that the boy has a shirt on, a shield with red and white stripes, and a star in the middle; Roger's shield. An image comes to my mind; the image of a poster. Rogers is in a costume, his hand pointing outwards and the words 'I want you for the US Army' written below him.

This memory confuses me, but without hesitation, I write down this memory as well. I try to find a way to piece together the flashes I've had the past few days, but I'm having no luck. The curious little boy smiles at me and then turns his back to continue with his game. I sit back against the chair in awe because I don't remember the last time someone smiled at me. Much less a child. Rogers is looked at as a hero, with his face plastered on posters and little boy's shirts. Hydra had told me I was a hero as well, and for so long, I believed them. I'm not so sure I do anymore.


	4. Seat 107

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

I hand the lady my passport and my ticket, hesitatingly watching as she checks it into the system. I feel my breath holding in my chest until I see the woman smile to me, handing the items back.

I sit down at the gate area, picking a seat in the very corner, away from the other twenty people waiting for our flight to be ready. I open my backpack and fish for my notebook, retrieving it and writing down the latest memory that surfaced while I was in security; it was me lying down on a hard surface of sorts, with a frantic looking Steve Rogers staring down at me, saying my name.

I have no idea what that means, but hopefully things will start to piece together soon. Seeing your life in fragments is both aggravating and confusing. Part of me worries if I'll ever be able to sort them all out.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a small boy sit next to me, his mother over with the ticket lady. He looks over at me, his tiny legs swinging excitedly. He can't be more than 5 or 6.

"What are you writing?" He asks, peering down at the notebook in my hand.

I don't answer the boy, but stare at him in curiosity. The minds of children will never cease to amaze me; they could look death and despair right in the face and wave at it without an ounce of fear.

"Are you angry?" He asks, sitting a bit closer to me.

I flinch away from him, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Only annoyed. Don't you have to go to your mother?"

"She told me to wait here," he says confidently; like he was given some sort of honor to sit by himself for a couple minutes. "What are you writing? Is it secret?"

Releasing a sigh I brace my hand on my knee and try to relax. "Yes its very secret and I'm not allowed to talk about it. Now please leave me alone."

"Maybe you should write down what's making you so angry," the boy says. "When I'm mad I draw a picture of it and show it to my mom. She makes the bad things go away."

I feel my shoulders slump slightly, feeling less annoyed and slightly envious of his youth and ignorance. "You're lucky you have someone to do that for you."

The boy seems to agree with this statement, beaming happily as his mother comes and sits next to him. The boy smiles at his mother, turning his full attention to her and forgetting of my existence.

I try to think of my own mother, but I come up with blanks. I wonder if she knew what became of her son, or had she simply thought he died. Do I have her eyes? Her hair? How long did she have to wait to hear of the news her son was lost forever?

I find myself grieving for a woman I can't even remember, can't even think of the name of. I can't help but look at this boy and his mother and envy the love that's there between them. I watch as the little boy and his mother walk towards the gate, hand in hand. I follow behind them, mindlessly watching the boy jump up and down in excitement as we enter the plane.

I look down at my ticket, trying to see what my seat number is; seat 107. My brain seems to take a pause as I stare down at that number. I notice I am not walking anymore, because an angry man releases a frustrated sigh that is way too loud to not be unintentional. I look over my shoulder and glare at the man, walking with a quicker pace down the isle.

I make it to my seat, starring for a moment at the number 107, feeling a slight pause once again, but this pause is followed by another group of images flashing through my mind; a small man in front of me, resembling a shorter Steve Rogers, asking me something I can't make out. But I respond to him; 'Seargent James Barnes of the 107th'.

I was a solider before HYDRA. Of course I already knew that from what I found in the museum, but reading about being a solider and actually remembering it are two different things entirely. I wonder why Rogers looks like that. It was no doubt him in the memory, but he is at least half the size he is now.

The sooner I get to Russia the better. Perhaps HYDRA itself can reveal some long sought for answers.

A woman sits down in the seat next to me, brown curly hair sticking out of her red hoody. I can see headphones out of the corner of my eye, as well as her golden brown hand bring out her phone to connect it to. I watch her as she settles into the seat, closing her eyes and drowning her ears in the music blasting from her headphones.

She looks so calm, so at peace with herself and with the world. I notice the more I see average people walking about their daily lives, the more envious I become. If only they knew how cruel the world really is, what people are capable of. How nice it must be to remember who you are.

As the days go by, I am becoming more and more skeptical about how loyal I should be to HYDRA. Rogers was right that I was loyal to him once, that I fought for my now enemies, that we grew up together. I know that I apparently died. I have abilities that I can't remember getting. It is still possible that I willingly changed allegiances; that I saw the faults of SHEILD and wanted to create a good world like HYDRA said I was helping to do. I can't even remember joining HYDRA, it's like I've been an agent my entire life.

But I don't believe Steve Rogers would be on a side that he didn't know was the right one.

I fish my notebook out again, writing down the memory I just saw. I stare down at my small book of thoughts, noticing that the pages are starting to fill up. Soon I will need another.

I flip to a new pages and begin to write out three words; James Buchanan Barnes. Writing it feels foreign to me, but I do it again, and again, and again, filling up two full pages of my true name. In the last space I have on the second page, I write down the word; Bucky. That was what Rogers called me, and to my surprise, that name doesn't feel foreign at all.


	5. Mongolia

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

I let out another scream, feeling my salty tears fall down into my open mouth. My body has never endured pain like this, not even when I fell off the cliff. I feel everything tightening and releasing, like I am being continuously pulled like taffy. Another scream releases from my mouth, so loud and guttural my voice is beginning to give out. I dare to look up, seeing dozens of needles being put into various parts of my body, while men in white coats are attaching wires to the place where my arm once was.

"Now now Sergeant Barnes," I hear a man say. The man comes up to peer down at my face. I blink away the tears blurring my vision and see a short man with glasses smiling down at me with anticipation. "It will be all over soon...soon you will be perfect."

I let out two painful breaths before I begin to sob, letting out a scream that begins to grow quieter as I let it out, my throat too raw to produce another. I let out a small moan and move my head to the side, feeling my eyes grow heavy. In the next few moments, exhaustion and pain overcome me, making me pass out on the operating table.

-

I flinch as I wake up, clutching onto the arm rests of the plane as if my life depended on it. After a few moments I lean back in my chair, with one name on my tongue; Arnim Zola, the man I read about in the museum. That memory I saw when I was there, I now know what it was he was saying. Thinking of him smiling down at me as I wither in pain makes me sick to the stomach.

I look over and see that the woman sitting next to me has left, along with the other passengers who are now in line to get off the plane. I gather my backpack and stick my notebook into it, walking towards the exit with everyone else.

A few people in front of me is the little boy again, his face plastered with a smile as he tells his mother about something that's exciting him. It has been so long sense I saw something so pure and innocent, and for some reason it makes me feel a pain in my chest.

As I walk through the tunnel, I look around me to try and find any unfriendly watchful eyes. Besides men and women hoping to beat the afternoon traffic I don't see much. I pull a lose strand of my hair away from my face, noticing my glove is showing part of my metal hand. I quickly stick it in my pocket, walking with a bit more haste.

Once I make it out of the airport, I wave a taxi over, hoping that the bastard won't drive by and ignore my frantic waving. Luckily he doesn't. I watch as the old man gets out of the car, trying his best to speak English.

"Where you like to go?" He asks with a smile.

"I want you to take my to this location." I inform him in Mongolian. He lets out a small sigh of relief as I hand him the address written on a piece of my notebook paper.

His smile fades into confusion as he looks up from the paper at me. "There is nothing there sir, why would you—"

"I am not paying you to ask questions I am paying you to take me there."

The old man nods to me, silently climbing back into the drivers seat of the car. Taking a in a deep breath, I slip into the passengers seat, shutting the door tightly behind me.


	6. Safe House

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

I find the key to the safe house inside the porch lamp. I carefully place it in the lock and watch the door swing open. It is quiet. Completely lifeless. There are brown leather couches in the living room, which match the brown rug and tan painted walls. There is no paintings or decorations, just windows and black out curtains to adorn the walls.

The living room leads directly into the kitchen where I suspect there is a fully stocked fridge and some other utensils. The kitchen is painted tan as well, with wooden chairs and table sitting next to a small counter. The fridge is right next to it, and I feel my stomach rumbling at the sight. There's a door on the other side of the room, which I suspect is a pantry.

I go back out into the living room, where behind the couches lies the staircase leading to the bedrooms. When I reach the top of the stairs, I see two rooms. One I suspect is for a female in need of this house. When I walk into the left most room and find a bag in the drawer filled with a female ID, I know I'm correct.

The room itself is painted light blue, with a made up bed and mahogany dresser being the only furniture in the room. There's a closet in the corner, with unused hangers dangling. There is also a door to a bathroom right next to it. As I walk into the other room, I see it looks identical.

Upon opening the dresser, I find there is a new identity; a Russian man named Issac Sokolov. There is a wallet in here with hundreds of dollars in cash. There is also a fresh change of clothes, a wig, and some facial features I could add to myself. I look further into the bag, finding exactly what I had been hoping to find; a location of a base here in Mongolia. They give this so we know where to rendezvous with our superiors. Each member of HYDRA special forces has one safe house assigned to them, usually due to whoever they work for.

Placing the items aside for a moment, I sit down on the bed. For the first time in what seems like decades, I take a deep breath and take in the safe quiet room. I never got luxuries like this, or at least not that I can remember. Now that I know there is a life I had that I've forgotten, it has made me think of things I've been taught to regard as weaknesses.

I had a mother once, and a father, maybe even siblings. I wonder what the sound of my mother's voice sounded like, what my father's handshake felt like. I wonder what playing with my siblings felt like, or even if I had any at all. I wonder what it felt like to have the blissful ignorance of adolescence that the little boy showed at the airport. I must have had friends, apart from Rogers of course. They must all be dead now, every single one of them. Part of me feels like this should upset me, that everyone who I once loved and who once loved me is dead. But how can I mourn them if I don't even know them?

A sound coming from downstairs interupts my thoughts. I lean down and reach under the bed, where I find a large case with several weapons inside. This includes guns, knives, and even poisons. I reach for a knife, sticking it in the pocket of my jeans and grabbing a pistol before making my way out of the bedroom. I keep both hands on the gun, stepping down each step cautiously, trying not to make a noise. I hear something coming from the living room, which alerts me that whoever is in the house knows that I'm here.

Only fellow HYDRA agents know about this safe house, it is unlikely to be a simple passerby. It could also be possible that S.H.I.E.L.D or Rogers has managed to track me down, but if there's one lesson that HYDRA has taught me is to treat everyone as a hostile.

Stepping off the last step, I round the corner and point my gun towards the living room, eyeing each piece of furniture suspiciously. There is tile in the kitchen, so I would definitely hear any movement there, but with the carpet floors in this room it is very easy to not make noise. The person must have hit a piece of the furniture or tripped, making the noise that I heard on the stairs. Looking over the couches and chairs, I start to get confused upon not finding anything, before a sudden realization hits me.

Silently swearing to myself, I turn around, finding a pistol pointed at me from a few feet away. I point my own right back, seeing that the person holding the gun is a young woman. She looks maybe in her early twenties, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She's very short. She has a petite figure but with a fair bit of muscle on her, she could definitely take someone in a fight. Her expression mirrors my own, no doubt she's analyzing me as well, trying to weigh her odds and find her assets.

"Do you understand me?" I ask her in Russian.

Her expression does not waver, though she does look slightly confused. "What are you doing here?" She replies.

Glancing down at her gun for a second, I respond: "This is the safe house I was assigned."

One nod. Her expression is still rather hostile, but she looks rather conflicted, almost like she's having an internal war with herself. After a moment, I see her release a small sigh, pulling her finger away from the trigger. "I have acquired my identity and weapons. All I want is some food and a change of clothes and I will be on my way." She says, putting her gun up in a gesture of surrender.

This switch from hostility to surrender confuses me at first, but from her analyzing of me earlier she must have gathered who I am. I had taken off my gloves earlier, so my metal hand is showing. She's afraid of me. That's good, shows she isn't an idiot.

Silently, I lower my gun, gesturing with my head towards the kitchen. "Make it quick." I say, watching her every move as she walks away, disappearing behind the staircase. Something about her feels oddly familiar. I can't seem to put my finger on why.


	7. Bugle Boy

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

I place the contents of the dresser inside my backpack; the new ID, wallet, and passport. Sifting through the box of weapons, I place all the ammo available into my bag as well as an extra pistol, placing the one I have with me inside the waist of my jeans.

Walking into the kitchen I open up the pantry, stuffing granola bars, nuts, pop tarts, and bottled waters inside as well. I then zip the backpack up and sling it over my shoulder, placing a black beanie on my head, throwing my hoodie up.

Looking down at the location of the base, I notice the distance being farther than I had thought. It will probably take the whole day to get there and I don't have any form of transportation.

Stuffing the paper with the base location in my pocket, I open up a map and lie it out on the floor in front of the house entrance, seeing that the nearest town is an hour long walk away.

Best start heading that way then. Folding up the map and stuffing it into my bag, I make my way towards the door, jogging down the steps and onto the wet grass.

-

Walking alongside the road, I see a sign that says there is a gas station half a mile up the road. Hopefully someone will be getting out to stretch their legs so I can steal their car.

My mind keeps wandering to the girl last night. She was clearly an agent like me; her confidence and determination as well as her good form, all the tells of an agent. I can't shake away the nagging feeling in my head that I had met her before. Had I worked alongside her before? Had she been an ally? An enemy? Just add her onto the list of people and events I can't remember.

I didn't like seeing her hostility. I don't like seeing the look of horror and terror that spring into people's gazes when they look at me, like I'm some monster from their nightmares. Of course I was, but that never bothered me until now. Before now I was told stirring that fear into people was a good thing, that it made me stronger and made the world safer. I don't believe that now. I wanted more people to look at me the way that little boy at the airport did; with happiness, with no fear.

That little boy on the plane was the first person in decades that treated me like a person, not a monster.

Walking up a small hill, I see the gas station. I jog up to one of the gas pumps, looking over its side to search through the different cars. I spot a suburban, but a father and daughter are still inside. There's a minivan, a Jeep, and a hybrid, but none of those will do either. At the very last gas pump there is a blue truck and there doesn't seem to be anyone inside it. Looking into the gas station shop I see a family currently at the cash register.

Seeing my window starting to close, I pull my hood tighter around my head and sprint towards the car, letting out a sigh of relief that the family left the car door open. Jumping into the drivers seat, I immediately begin to hot wire the car, continuing to glance up at the family inside, now paying the cashier for the things they had bought.

The car engine finally turns on. Without a moment's hesitation I put it in reverse. The family rushes out of the gas station with looks of horror and anger, which slowly begin to fade away as I put the car into drive and press on the accelerator.

-

The drive to the base is a long one, and after the first hour or so, I looked down at the radio and decide to turn it on. The song that begins to play, is something that sounds rather familiar. I couldn't put my finger on it for a long time. I looked at the name of the radio station and it is called 'Top 40's and 50's music'. It occurs to me I probably used to listen to some of these songs.

One song I am able to recall the name of, it was "You'll Never Know" by Vera Lynn. I don't have any memories of this song, but for some reason I know that to be it's name. She has a beautiful voice, and it actually calms me down and makes me relax a little.

After a few more hours, I find myself knowing the words to the song that plays next, remembering the exact amount of trumpet horns in the beginning of the song. A memory comes into my mind, of me sitting in what looks to be a tavern. All around me are men in uniform, of all different ages and ranks, all engrossed in the three women singing and dancing on the small stage in the middle of the establishment. The lead singer, a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, winks at me, and blows me a kiss as she continues to sing the song; "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" by The Andrew Sisters.

As I still relive the memory, I find myself singing the words the woman has sang to me then. "They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam, it really brought him down because he couldn't jam. The captain seemed to understand, because the next day the cap went out and drafted a band," I find myself almost smiling as I say the main chorus. "And now the company jumps, when he plays reveille, he's a boogie woogie bugle boy of company B."

Listening to the duration of the song, I almost feel like I'm back there, during the Great War that I read so much about in that museum. I clearly know this song from that time. The memory of all those men in uniform confirms it. I wonder if I used to listen to music often, I seem to like it now. Did I used to sing a lot? Did I dance? I bet if I did it wasn't very good.

I wonder if Rogers danced or sung either. Though we have had very different paths, I think one thing is for certain; neither one of us had had much time for leisure activities like singing and dancing in the last few decades.

Not wanting to think of this anymore, I look down at the map I have laid out in the passenger seat next to me. I feel relieved as I see that the base should be a few minutes away. And indeed it was, because I see it's seemingly harmless exterior moments later. Anyone who passed by wouldn't realize the horrors they would see if they went behind those walls.

There are no other cars or other vehicles around. The base seems like no one has been there in many years, but assumptions are what get people killed. I should be prepared for anything. If I'm wrong and there are HYDRA agents here, one thing is for certain, they aren't taking me again.

I turn off the engine to the car, opening the door. I fold up the map, stuffing it back in my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder, shutting the door tightly. Making my way into the base, I find that my palms begin to sweat, my breathing become more shallow. I try to keep calm as I open the creaking metal door of the base, revealing a completely dark entry area, devoid of all life.

Having my gun out low at my side, I begin to walk deeper into the base, passing by the front desk, where an agent would be there to let you into the main part of the facility. With no one here, I go to shoot the keypad to let myself in, but I notice that someone has beat me to it. I shove through the door, more alert now. I get a sense of familiarity as I pass by what should be the center of the building, where several different forms of fighting and training equipment is strewn about, with mats that have a thick layer of dust covering them.

I hear a noise and point my gun towards the direction I heard it, seeing that it came from a hallway past the training area. Making my way down it, that sense of familiarity increases as I realize what is down this hallway; cells. I know somehow I was never held in these, but i had put people in here.

Hearing a noise again, I hold my gun up. This time a person is at the other end of it, but I am inconveniently at the end of theirs.

To my shock, it is the same girl I had seen earlier today, the HYDRA agent who shared my safe house. The hostility in her eyes is not as prominent as it was before, there is more confusion there now.

"What are you doing here?" She asks me in Russian once again, holding her gun tighter.

"I could ask the same of you." I reply, doing the same.

"I'm looking for something." Is all she says, not wavering her stare for one moment.

"Are you a HYDRA agent?" I ask, lowering my gun, placing it on the floor, dropping my hands at my sides.

The woman lowers her gun and places it on the floor as well. Her gaze finally leaves mine and she stares at the floor where our two guns are. "Not anymore." She says through a clenched jaw, looking up at me once more. She takes one step closer to me, her gaze filled with curiosity. "Tell me, why is the Winter Solider searching an abandoned HYDRA base?"


	8. HYDRA Agents

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"I don't go by that name anymore." I say quietly, watching her watch me.

"I don't care what you call yourself. Tell me what you're doing here." She says, her voice firm, curiosity replacing the hostility entirely.

"I am here for answers, that's all," I tell her, taking a step closer to her, so our faces are inches from each other. "I want to make the people who did this to me pay."

The girl releases a scoff. "The people who did what? I know who you are and what you've done. I've starred into your eyes and seen nothing, seen you kill without any mercy or emotion, like an animal. You're a monster."

So we definitely have a history. I clench my jaw, feeling my fists tighten at my sides. "You have no idea who I am or what has happened to me. HYDRA took my life away from me and turned me into this. All those years, I was the monster they programmed me to be."

The girl begins to circle around me, starring me down, like she is a hawk starring down at a mouse. "You're claiming to be brainwashed? Then why should I trust a damn word you say?"

I follow her gaze as she circles me. I make my gaze just as intense, letting her know that if anyone is the mouse in this scenario it's her. "You shouldn't, I wouldn't if I were you. But it's the truth. Someone very recently told me who I really am, and I'm trying to finish the rest of that puzzle."

She stops circling, standing right in front of me as she did moments ago. "So the Winter Solider is identity searching and seeking revenge?"

Now having the chance to look at her more closely, especially given that she mentioned she had seen me up close before, I finally piece together who it is I'm being interrogated by. "I'm assuming you are too, because why else would an ex-HYDRA agent be here?" I say, mirroring what she did to me and taking a step closer to her. "You may know who I am but don't think I don't know who you are. And I think The Savage is being hypocritical by calling me a monster."

The intensity of her gaze wavers for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"We have that in common," I say, glancing back at the guns lying on the floor. "So enlighten me."

She looks back at the guns as well. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear as she refocuses her gaze back at me. "HYDRA took me from my family. They forced me to do their bidding or else they'd kill them. But now that HYDRA's fallen..." She trails off.

"You're looking for them." I finish for her.

She nods slowly, searching my eyes like she's trying to decipher something she can't read.

"Why should I trust the word of someone who is best known for ripping the hearts out of her victims?"

"I never said you should," she replies, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "But it's the truth."

"It looks like our missions are taking us to the same places," I say, taking a step back from her, placing my hands behind my back. "I recon that since we share the same safe house that we work for the same people."

"I would assume so."

"I have a proposition for you." I say, bending down to the floor and picking both guns up. I see her tense slightly, but then as I hold out her gun to her, her shoulders relax. She hesitantly grabs the gun from my metal hand.

"I don't remember the people who did this to me, I barely remember the places I was kept or visited. It's fragments of a picture that I can't piece together just yet. If you help me piece together what happened to me, if you help me hunt down the true monsters, I will help you find your family," I say, placing my gun back in my pants, noticing she still has hers in her hand. "I think the same people who took you hurt me too. Having two guns instead of one is helpful when going up against a government agency."

"The Winter Solider wants my help? Why should I help you?" She asks, some of that hostility returning.

"Because with both of us combined we can achieve both of our goals quicker and more efficient. And besides, being on the run isn't easy if you're alone."

"How did you know I'm on the run?"

"You're an ex-HYDRA special forces agent, of course you're on the run. So am I. Another thing we have in common."

She stares me down for quite a long time, deep in thought as she contemplates her options. She really does look like she's looking at prey. I'd expect nothing else from The Savage, but I know that's not the only reason why, I can tell.

"If I'm going to work with you I'll need to know your real name." She says finally, placing her gun in her pants.

I hesitate for a moment, realizing this will be the first time that I will be admitting this out loud. "James Buchanan Barnes."

She nods, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear. "Well Barnes, I'm Soroya Roberts," She says, starting to walk by me towards the main area of the base. "It will be dark soon, we better get some rest before we travel to the next location tomorrow. I'm taking first watch."

Blinking a few times, I turn around and follow after her, securing my backpack tightly around my shoulder. A memory pops into my head as I walk towards the center area as well; an image of a wolf starring at a man chained to a chair, it's gaze blood thirsty and predatorial as I hold down the man. I watch as it's black eyes reflect the image of the screaming man, I watch the terror slowly leave his eyes as the wolf pounces. The Savage indeed.


	9. Identity

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"No...no please no. No more." I say after I let out another scream. I take in a breath, but little air enters my lungs. I feel sobs making my whole body shake against the chair they have me strapped down to.

A man in a white coat and glasses appears. I recognize the sickly pale face and creepy smile that comes into view. Arnim Zola smiles down at me, pushing his glasses up his nose. I feel confusion flow through me before the man in the black uniform hits at my back again. I feel a painful screeching sound come out of my mouth at the impact.

"Confess." Zola says, his smile turning from pleasant to angry, like someone had switched a dial in his head.

I lift my head up to meet his gaze. "Confess what?"

"Confess that you worked with the enemy, you worked for the American government."

"You're the enemy." I murmur, feeling the guard hit me again with the baton.

"You worked for the wrong side. All American's do is hunt down others and take everything they have, acting like it's theirs." Zola says, inching a bit closer to my face.

"That isn't true."

Another hit.

"It is. All those people you so nobly killed on the battlefield were just people trying to fight for their freedom and justice, something Americans don't understand."

"You're wrong." I say through my clenched teeth.

Zola places his hands on his knees and bends down to look at me. My vision is blurred from the tears in my eyes, but I refuse to look away from him.

He stands up straight, looking to the guard, nodding his head. I flinch prematurely, thinking I am about to get beaten again, but instead I feel two people unlocking my chains from the chair, carrying me out of the room.

My sobs continue to come as I hear Zola saying: "Perhaps some time in your cell will make you rethink what you've done."

I try to break free from the iron grip both of the guards have on my body, but all I can do is watch as they drag me into the now familiar metal cell, filled with the other members of my legion. I hear the door open and I am thrown in, where I feel the cold stone floor beneath me. As they close the door, I crawl on my hands and knees and place my face against the door, trying to make any noise I can muster, but only a soft whimper comes out. I feel my eyes close, letting more tears fall as my men gather around me, gawking at the broken figure before them.

-

I wake up with tears running down my face. I quickly bring my hands up to touch my eyes, my nose, my cheek. All this to make sure I am really here and not back in the hell I just relived. Clutching the sides of my head I rock back and forth for a moment or two, trying to calm down and control my breathing.

"How long have you been having these nightmares?"

I jump at the sound of Robert's voice. I look over at her through the gap between my arm. I see her face isn't hostile or judgmental, but understanding. She must have them too.

"Since HYDRA fell. I think being away from their clutches is letting my memories come back."

She nods slowly. "That makes sense."

I look around me to try and find my backpack, finding it a few feet away from me. I see Robert's tense at my sudden movement, but she just seems curious as I grab my bag and fish out my notebook. I begin to write down what I had just witnessed, not holding back from detailing what I had seen, what I had felt.

When I finish writing, I look up to meet her gaze. She has her arms crossed and in her eyes I can see pity, but her expression says frustration. I think she's angry that she feels sympathy. I don't know what's worse, her feeling bad for having pitying me or that she pities me at all.

"Are you rested enough?" She asks me after a few minutes.

"Yes, are you ready to continue on?" I ask her, using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe the tears from my cheeks.

She fishes into her jacket pocket and begins to unfold a map. When she lays it out on the floor, I can see several circles in red marker around different parts of Asia. I crawl over to where she now leans over the map, watching her draw an 'X' over one of the circles. She then looks up at me and points to where she just drew.

"We are here. I am guessing you came here because this is where the safe house told you to rendezvous?"

I nod.

"You say you cannot remember every place you've been held or the people who did this to you? Well luckily for you I know the people who were in charge of me and what bases I was kept at. I have been traveling through Asia all my life. You were sent to missions all throughout the world, I was only stationed in this part of the world," she says, letting out a short sigh. She absentmindedly runs a hand through her hair, looking around at the map. "I would venture to guess that you have mostly been kept here in Asia as well. S.H.I.E.L.D operates in the U.S., so they wouldn't dare hide you in enemy territory, even though they had been infiltrated by HYDRA. I remember seeing you and other advanced agents at your level mostly in Siberia."

I instantly feel a sense of dread at the thought of Siberia, because sadly those memories are ones that haven't been forgotten.

"They didn't let you go outside of Asia and Europe?" I ask her, placing my metal arm to rest on my knee.

"As you know, I am an advanced agent," she says, folding her map back up, not meeting my eyes. "And with that comes some freedom, but they treated the agents they trained from adolescence and the ones they tampered with delicately. They trusted agents like me less, since I remember life outside of HYDRA, so I think they wanted me close to the chest."

So she was taken when she was young. An image of that little boy at the airport pops into my head. I can't help but imagine that boy, someone so sweet and innocent, being forced into a life like this. I feel pity for Roberts, not that I'd tell her that.

"Shall we get going?" I ask her, not wanting to think about the little boy anymore.

She nods, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Do you have a car?"

I nod, dangling the keys on my thumb. "Yes, but I'm driving."


	10. Underneath The Mask

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Roberts is quiet as we drive down the road. She has her arms crossed, resting her head against the back of the seat. Her ankles are crossed and leaning towards the right. I notice that not many people do that anymore. She must have gone to a private school when she was younger; I remember having friends who were taught different mannerisms than someone who went to a normal public school.

She notices my starring, making me look away. Without a single word I focus my attention back onto the road, flexing my fingers slightly on the wheel.

"What's so fascinating about my feet?" She asks after a moment. What shocks me is that she asks this question in English, even more so that her accent isn't even Russian, it's German.

"Your ankles are crossed. Not many people do that, especially today. I was wondering if you went to a private school when you were younger."

"Catholic school," She says after a moment. "Had to learn to curtsy when I was five."

"Why the sudden change to English?"

"Because you have a clear American accent. No matter how much time you've spent in Russia, Americans are distinctive." She says, uncrossing her arms and laying them on her lap.

"You have a very good Russian accent," I say, genuinely trying to compliment her. "I didn't notice until just now that you're German."

"German and Russian accent are similar in many ways, it's very easy to mimic the other," She says, picking at her thumb nail. "But if we're going to work together we need to drop the facades."

"I agree. Who should spill their souls first? What do you want to know about me?" I ask with a partial mocking tone.

Roberts takes this quite seriously though. "How old are you? I was fifteen the last time I saw you and you haven't aged at all. That was over a decade ago."

I keep my eyes on the road, flexing my hands on the wheel once again. "I couldn't tell you from memory, but a plaque in Smithsonian tells me that I was born on March 10th, 1917."

"How is that possible?"

"HYDRA must have done something to me when I was their prisoner back in WWII. I remember bits and pieces of their torture, so they must have done something to me so I won't age." I say, tightening my grip on the wheel.

"Who did you fight for in the war?"

"As you pointed out, I'm an all American boy. Why? Are you descended from Nazis?"

I look over at her and she looks appalled. "Of course not. Those people were vicious and cruel and the fact they are associated with every German makes me angry beyond words."

"I didn't ask if you were a Nazi I asked if you were descended from them."

"The answer is still no. My grandparents and especially my parents would never be apart of any violence like that."

I nod my head, taking note that she does truly care a great deal about her family.

"Do you have any family left?" She asks quietly. I can't tell if she's still interrogating me, or if she's asking since her own family was brought up.

"I don't remember my parents, but they should be dead by now. I don't think I had any siblings. There's only one person from my past that I know is still alive and they're the last person I need to see now."

"Why?"

"Not your concern."

She falls silent for a moment. When I look over at her again she doesn't look frustrated because I didn't answer, she looks rather sad. I can't tell if that sorrow is for me or not.

"I was born on April 20th, 1988, in Hamburg, Germany. I lived there until I was taken by HYDRA." She says quietly.

I slowly nod my head. "How young were you?"

"I had just turned 12."

I stare at her for a long moment, before turning my attention back onto the road. I can't imagine going through what she and I did at her age. When HYDRA took me I was a grown adult. She had barely seen the world, barely lived her life.

"If we're going to be traveling together, you should know I need to listen to music as much as possible. Music from my time, it helps with my memories, and it calms my nerves a bit."

She crosses her arms again, stretching her legs out and no longer crossing her ankles. "Alright."

I press the button on the radio, twisting the knob to turn the volume up. The song that starts to play is one I remember vaguely by it's lyrics. I glance at the radio screen and I was right, it's 'The Object of My Affection', a song that came out when I was maybe a teen.

I get a brief flash of dancing to this song with a girl at what seems to be a school dance. A small blonde boy is dancing next to me and seems to be giving me an approving look. It takes me a moment to realize who this is. I try not to dwell in the memory anymore. Thinking of my lost childhood, especially Rogers role in it, is too hard right now.

I glance at Roberts, who is starring out of the window. I see her nodding her head ever so slightly, tapping her feet against the floor of the car.

Another note taken: she likes vintage music.


	11. The Wolf Emerges

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"Is this it?" I ask Roberts, turning off the car engine.

She pulls out her map, laying it flat on her lap and trailing it with her finger. "Yes this is it. This is the only other HYDRA base in Southeast Asia, because they wouldn't dare step into Korean or Chinese territory."

We both get out of the car, securing our bags tightly, making sure our guns are loaded and ready. Instead of going to the front door, we walk around cautiously until we find a side door. Unlike the base we were previously at, this one doesn't look like it hadn't been occupied in decades.

I kick down the door, aiming my gun up. No one seems to be here, so I step on top of the fallen door, making my way into the base with Roberts guarding my back.

After walking down a vacant hallway and turning a corner, Roberts grips onto my shoulder and pushes me against the wall, placing her finger on her lips. I am taken aback from how strong she is. I almost question her, until a few moments later when I hear someone's voice. Staying still, I watch as two men in lab coats scramble across the hall, looking scared and frantic.

"Wonder what has them in a fit." Roberts whispers sarcastically. What I'm still trying to figure out is why she heard the men long before I did. But that was a question for later.

With our guns aimed high, we move to follow the scientists. Running across the hall to the other wall, I look over the corner and see the frantic scientists opening the door with a hand scanner on the wall. Aiming my gun for one of their shoulders, I shoot, and the man falls down to the ground before he can finish the scan.

I turn to Roberts and nod for her to go. She begins a sprint towards the two men, aiming her gun up and hitting the other man in the knee, making him drop. I follow after her, grabbing onto one of the scientists hands and placing it onto the scanner.

Roberts hands me her gun, her face determined and filled with hesitation. I look at her confused. "Two is better than one." She says, taking a step back from me.

I finally realize what she means, and so do the scientists, given the look of horror on their faces as they watch Roberts lean down on her hands and knees. She hunches over, her small frame transforming into a large grey wolf. Her teeth are barred and her expression could send the strongest men and women to their knees, especially as she lets out a loud growl. I look into her eyes though and they haven't changed at all; they're the same chocolate brown, and they seem to be telling me to continue on.

I hear the door click, and I turn around to see it swing open. At least 10 men are inside; four of them are scientists and six of them soldiers, wearing the infamous red skull symbol on their arms.

"Get the soldiers first, we'll interrogate the scientists after." I say to her, worrying for a second that in animal form she no longer remembers her true self. But the grey wolf turns her head to me and nods, crouching down and lunging into the room, biting into the shoulder of the soldier closest to her.

I charge in, instantly shooting both guns and having the bullets make their marks in two of the soldiers heads. I shoot one of the scientists in the leg because he reached a shaking hand for a gun that had been lying down near him. One solider pulls his gun out rather quickly, but I'm able to block the shots with my metal arm. As the look of shock and confusion goes over his face I am able to shoot him down, as well as another soldier who tried to sneak up behind me.

There are three scientists left, each of them huddle against the wall, shaking with fright. I aim my gun at them, but I don't shoot.

I watch Roberts bite into the leg of the last soldier, using this grip to continuously bang him against the wall. Once it is clear the man is knocked out, Roberts lifts her head up to me, looking at me as if she's trying to study me. After a moment she bows her head and seems to mirror what she had done before. Almost instantly she is no longer a wolf. She is back in her human form; crouched down, with her knees up to her chest and her arms around her, like a shell. I at first think something is wrong and she's doing this because she's in pain, but then I notice she's not wearing any clothes.

"Do you ever pack extras?" I ask her, looking back at the scientists.

"In my bag, it's still in the hall." She says firmly. Without turning I can hear her footsteps and the unzipping of her bag. I notice one of the scientists looking and I point the gun specifically at him, watching him flinch as he looks down to the ground.

"You three are going to help us, or a bullet will be buried in your skull."

"What do you want?" The middle scientist asks with a shaking voice.

"I want every file, document, and information you have on us."

The scientist on the right holds his hands up in surrender and begins to stand, my gun following him the entire time. "Alright, I'll give you what you want. I'll need your names."

"James Buchanan Barnes, alias is The Winter Solider, and Soroya Roberts, alias is The Savage. I also need any file on her family." I tell him. I can see him tense up and his breathing become rapid. I nod my head over to him, letting him know he can move. Not taking his eyes off of my for a second, he makes his way over to the computer on the other side of the room. As I follow him I yell over my shoulder; "Get the guns on the floor, I don't want these geniuses getting any ideas."

I watch as the scientist types my name into the computer, and all that appears is a letter and a number; F15.

"What does that mean?"

"We don't keep files on a computer because it's hackable, but we put the file number in the system to know where we can find the information on the base in the file room."

"Take me there."

I glance over at Roberts, who with two guns is watching the scientists diligently. As me and the scientist step through the door, one of the men from earlier tries to grab my ankle, but with one kick to his head, the bloodied scientist falls to the ground. This makes the scientist I have at gun point even more frightened.

After walking through two hallways, we make it into a room that's filled with filing cabinets. I stand by the door and watch as the man goes over to a cabinet in the corner, coming back towards me with a file in his hands. He gently hands it to me. I look at the front of it, where in big red letters it says; HIGHLY CLASSIFIED: THE WINTER SOLDIER.

"Now find her files." I say sternly.

The scientist goes back towards the same cabinet and brings out a second file, one that is very similar to mine; HIGHLY CLASSIFIED: THE SAVAGE.

"Any file on her family?"

The scientist shakes his head violently.

I hold both files tightly in my arms, keeping the gun aimed at the scientist. "Were you one of the men who worked on me?"

"I promise you I've never seen you before, I've only heard about you from other scientists."

"Do you know anyone who worked on me?"

"From what I know, all your gifts were given to you during the Second World War. I only know you by reputation alone, nothing else." He says, tears beginning to spill from his eyes. For a moment I think about pulling the trigger, wiping one more mark of HYDRA from existence, but something stops me. I lower the gun, bringing the bud up and hitting him hard in the head, watching him drop to the ground. With another glance at the files in my hand, I make my way back to Roberts.

She is pointing her gun at the reminaning scientists still, but her eyes are already on me before I make it into the room. I wave the files in my hand, nodding with my head towards the hall. Backing towards the door, she lowers her gun, shoving the scientist I just returned with closer to the others. She gestures for me to move back, so I do so, watching her shut the door on them. Pointing her gun back up, she runs back down the hallway. Without a moment's hesitation, I follow after her.

"Where are we going?"

She stops at a stairwell leading down the levels of the base. It doesn't take me long to realize what she is planning. She's checking to see if this base has any prison cells. Not every base does, but the ones that do tend to be the much larger facilities.

Holding her arm back as she steps forward, I give her a warning look. "You don't know who they're keeping down there. They didn't have their files here, so I doubt they're being kept here."

"I have to check." She says, ripping her arm from my grasp. She begins descending the stairs and reluctantly I follow after her. There seems to be no guards down here, and the lights are beginning to flicker the more we travel deeper into the base. When we make it down to the prison level, there is barely any light at all.

Most cells seem to be empty, but the ones that aren't are covered in blood and the shot down bodies of fallen prisoners. In one cell we find the body of a maybe fifteen year old boy, who still has his blue eyes starring frighteningly at the dead guard feet from him.

When HYDRA fell, the prisoners must have tried to escape. Clearly it wasn't successful. For the most part at least, because there are more cells than there are bodies. I hope those prisoners managed to get to safety and didn't end up like this boy here.

After each cell has been searched, Roberts turns to me, and her expression is not hiding the pain she is feeling. "Let's leave."


	12. The Files

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

A few miles from the base we found an abandoned house. After a thorough search, we decide to sleep here for the night. The house probably was abandoned a few years ago, given the amount of dust. The windows are slightly cracked and part of the roof is missing, but it will have to do.

In what used to be the living room, the two of us have our files laid out in front of us, both of us reading every detail hidden within the words and pictures.

———————————————————————  
full name: James Buchanan Barnes  
alias: The Winter Solider  
gender: male  
birth date: March 10th, 1917  
known missions:  
Mission Flying Eagle 1963  
Mission Winter Solider  
Mission Serum 1991  
Project Insight  
known assassinations:  
24  
Programs:  
Winter Soldier Program  
———————————————————————

I go onto one of the other pages to find a frightening picture of me inside what seems to be a metal box. I seem to be sleeping, surrounded by ice. I get a flash of an image; darkness, the kind that you would think you'd find only in the void. I feel nothing but ice and cold, until a small ray of warmth hits me as my eyes open. I feel my body drop, only to be carried by two soldiers holding me in an iron grip. They drag my body to a scientist in a white coat standing a few feet from me. I look up to see Arnim Zola, the mad scientist smiling at me widely.

I feel chills go up and down my body. At least I have one answer; I keep having flashes of this dark box and feelings of being stuck in a snow storm. It didn't make sense until now. HYDRA used to freeze me, like some slab of meat locked away in an ice box. This explains why I haven't aged in 70 years; I was frozen after my missions to keep me young. I don't get the science behind that, but I don't think that was ever my speciality.

I go to one of the other documents and begin reading.

———————————————————————  
WINTER SOLDIER PROGRAM  
Program Leaders:  
Dr. Arnim Zola  
Vasily Karpov  
Alexander Pierce

THE ORIGINAL WINTER SOLDIER  
Program started in the mid 1940's with the capture and rehabilitation of former United States Army Soldier; James Buchanan Barnes. He had already received serum, but upon capture was given a cybernetic arm.

Barnes was responsible for over two dozens assassinations and has the most successful missions in HYDRA history. Details on these missions are classified information.

SECOND ROUND OF WINTER SOLDIERS  
Barnes was the only Winter Solider for several decades, until 1991 when he was sent on a mission to extract serum from scientist Howard Stark. This serum birthed five other soldiers whose names and information are classified.  
———————————————————————

I hate that even in their highly classified files they give out no information. I pick up another one of the documents, only to find this one to be much more informative.

———————————————————————  
ARNIM ZOLA'S KEY NOTES; WINTER SOLIDER

Serum Information:  
Created as a copy of the infamous "Captain America serum"  
Serum advances subject's strength, speed, agility, mental faculties, stamina, durability, longevity, and cellular regeneration

Bionic Arm:  
During an accident, subject Barnes had his left arm partially destroyed. This arm was replaced by a cybernetic arm that provided the subject with superior strength.

Brain Wiping:  
Methods of usual brainwashing were ineffective to the subject, even after approximately four years of constant psychological evaluations and training.  
The state of the art Memory Suppressing Machine was successful in wiping the first three decades from Barnes's life, making him believe HYDRA was his one and only goal in life, thereafter becoming the organizations greatest weapon.

Activation words for after awakening from Crytostasis Chamber: Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car  
———————————————————————

I try not to linger long in those last words, knowing exactly what they mean and fearing what even reading them will cause me to do.

Closing the file I look up at Roberts, who has put away her files as well and looks rather frustrated.

"Find anything?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "Nothing I didn't already know. Except for two things," she says, grabbing onto one of the papers. "It doesn't say anything about my abilities or my family, but it did tell me who specifically trained me and was in charge of me throughout my time here."

"You don't know how you got your abilities?" I ask, finding this is one question she and I have in common.

She shakes her head. "No. It's something I'm hoping to find out. Finding the people in charge of me might give me that answer," she says, gesturing for me to come closer to her. I'm shocked she does so, but I oblige and sit next to her, reading the file in her hands. "It says that The Savage was trained in combat and martial arts by instructor Richard Setherton, trained in her animal shifting and abilities by specialists Erica Oxton and Julian Remington, was trained in hacking by Alexa James, and trained in marksmanship by The Winter Soldier. Head of department; Alexander Pierce."

I look away from the document and over to her, sitting back for a moment to let that set in. "I trained you?"

She shakes her head, mostly to herself. "If I had any doubts that you were brainwashed, they are gone now. You trained me for a year when I was 15, that's why I was at the base in Siberia. I know for the past maybe 20 years that's where you've been kept, but I have no clue what happened to you for the 40 years before that."

"I had thought you had good aim and form, now I know why." I say more to myself than her.

Roberts rolls her eyes, picking up another document. "What did you find?" She asks me.

"I know the three men who were in charge of the Winter Soldier Program over the past 70 years. I know now that the memories of dark and cold I have are because after missions they would freeze me, which is why I haven't aged. I know now they switched to an electric shock machine of some sort after regular brainwashing didn't work for me."

"Well you got more out of those files than I did."

"We just need to find the right bases, the ones you've been to more or were stationed at are going to have the most information."

She lets out a sigh, laying down on the floor and resting her arm across her forehead. I sit there kind of awkwardly, not knowing what exactly is going through her mind right now.

"Are-are you okay?" I ask, letting out a sigh of my own at how pathetic that sounded.

"I just keep thinking about my parents. They're probably locked in some dungeon. And my brother, I mean did they turn him into an agent too...and now that HYDRA is gone there may not be anyone to take care of them, if they ever had been before—"

"You can't think like that," I say pushing past how uncomfortable I am at this moment. "You have to hope that they're out there somewhere."

She leans up slightly to look at me. "Do you believe that's even possible?"

"I do. And if you ever want to find them, so do you."


	13. Honeymooners

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"Do you want anything to eat while we wait, you haven't had anything in days." I murmur to Roberts, who is sitting uncomfortably next to me at our airport gate.

"What do you have? All I have left are granola bars and I need something more artificial." She says, wiping her hands over her face. She looks very tired, but given we have slept on the floor of abandoned buildings for the past few days it's understandable. I was exhausted too.

"I have three twinkies left, they're all yours." I say handing them to her.

She lets out a small moan, opening up the package and stuffing one in her mouth. A small smile forms on my face and I try to hide it, going through my pack to find something for myself. I have granola bars and one bag of Doritos, I opt for the Doritos.

"When we get to Lensk, we have to buy more supplies," I lean over to her and whisper. "We need more ammo as well."

"I know of another safe house we can get more supplies at. I want to spend most of our money on traveling."

"Agreed." I say, settling into my seat. We got into a new change of clothes to try and blend in more. I am wearing a blue hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants, while she is wearing a pair of jeans, a tight black shirt, and a dark green hoodie. We are both wearing baseball hats. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's making us look very American.

The attendant at the gate leans down towards the microphone on her desk, saying; "The flight to Lensk will be boarding in five minutes." In Chinese, she says the same phrase again in Russian, and once again in English.

Roberts and I both stand. I tighten the strap of my backpack, noticing one of the security guards looking at me funny. Instantly glancing at Roberts, I drop my voice down low. "Security guard."

I see her glance over to the guard, feeling her slip her hand into mine. I get confused for a moment, but then I see what she's doing. I squeeze her hand as a way to say I understand her, then I release my grip and wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to my side.

I force a smile and look down at her. "He still looking?"

She glances away, then back at me. "No," she mumbles through a smile. "But I think we should continue charades like this when in public."

"We need to figure out a cover story if people ask questions." I say, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

"We are two people on their honeymoon traveling over Asia. It's simple and easy to explain. Besides, public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, so we can slip past people who glance too long."

The doors open and the flight attendant says we are allowed to board. We get into line and wait patiently as each passenger gives the woman their ticket, until it is our turn.

The woman holds out her hand as I give her my ticket, turning to Roberts and seeing she does the same. I plant a light kiss on the side of her head, rubbing her shoulder as we wait for the woman to give us our tickets back.

"Enjoy your flight." She says in English. We both smile at her and begin to walk through the tunnel and onto the plane.

I glance at each face as we walk through the isle to find our seats, which are all the way in the back. When we reach them, Roberts turns to me and asks; "Window or Isle?"

"Isle, I hate window seats," I answer, letting her settle into her seat before I sit next to her. After spending a few moments watching more and more people take their seats, I slip my hand into hers again and turn to her. "How long will this flight be?"

"About four hours," she says, letting go of my hand and searching through her backpack. She hands me a book. I look at her very confused, but all she does is smile at me shyly. "I got you this at one of the stores in the airport."

"What is it?"

"It's a book."

I glare at her. "I know it's a book, but why did you buy it for me?"

"Because this trip will take some time and I while I was buying water I thought it could occupy you. I got a book for myself as well."

I lean a little closer to her so others can't hear me. "You like to read?"

"I haven't done much reading in the past fourteen years, but yes I read all the time as a child," she says, tapping a finger on the book she gave me. "This one came out this year, it's about a French girl and a German boy who's lives intertwine with each other during WWII. I just thought since you were a soldier then that you might like it, or it might jog some more memories."

I stare at her for a few seconds, still slightly confused, but also touched. "I really appreciate this."

She shakes her head, glancing at someone behind me, placing her hand on the side of my face. "Well of course, silly. I promised to stay by your side and that's what marriage is all about."

I give her a smile, one that I don't have to force. I know she was saying that to keep our charade going, but I know there was a hidden message in that statement; that she did this because we are a team now and she promised to help me.

She grabs out the book she bought for herself and begins to read something called 'Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone'. So, I open up mine as well. I glance over at her, seeing a small smile on her face at whatever she is reading. Before I know it, a similar smile is on my face too, even though I haven't read a single word of the pages before me.


	14. Shifting And Serum

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"Alright, I'll go in through the front and you go in through the back. Together we'll check the upstairs."

Roberts puts her gun down, shaking her head. "No need. There's nobody here."

She walks past me towards the steps leading up to the porch. I stop my pace, starring at her confused. "How do you know?"

"I can't smell or hear anyone." She says, walking up the to the front door. She twists the knob and walks into the house, gesturing for me to follow her. After a moment I do.

"What do you mean you can't smell anyone?" I ask, still having my gun out as a precaution.

I find Roberts in the brightly painted kitchen, opening up the pantry and letting out a moan. I look inside and feel my mouth fill with saliva at how much food is inside.

She turns to me and says matter of factly; "This is the only good food we have seen in over a week. This is the first real bed we will sleep on in over a week. I promise I will tell you the four-one-one on my abilities as soon as I eat something."

I let out a sigh and nod to her, helping her grab food out of the pantry. There are boxes of dried fruit, cereals, several bags of pretzels and peanuts, granola bars, and much more. All those are food we could take with us. In the fridge there is fresh fruit and vegetables, some eggs, juice, even some turkey.

Placing all the food on the table, we both eagerly dive in and begin to feast. Something I notice is just how eagerly she is eating. I have traveled with her for about a week now, so I have of course seen her eat before. That being said, she is currently eating some of the turkey and her mannerisms are rather odd. She has this look in her eyes, it's almost a feral look. She is eating the meat similarly to how she attacked and bit into the HYDRA soldiers back at the base; like an animal.

"Okay," I say, placing my apple and pretzels down. "If we are going to be allies, I need to know all our assets and setbacks. I need to know what you are and are not capable of. We need to know our strengths and weaknesses as a team."

She looks up from the meat, swallowing and slowly nodding. "I agree. And will you do the same?"

"I will." I say, sitting back in my chair, gesturing for her to talk.

She sits back in her chair as well, licking her lips. "I was twelve when I was taken. It was just a normal day like any other, until I woke up naked in the woods, not remembering anything that had happened in the past few hours. HYDRA took me and used my ability for their gain. I...I don't know if they gave me my abilities or if I was bitten by something or I was born like this. They had people work with me around the clock to control my abilities and understand them."

"What do you know?"

"At first I couldn't be aware when in another form, but now I can fully be in control. I am not like a werewolf, I don't have a specific time I change, I can change at will. Something I've noticed though is that I have a strong urge to change whenever blood is around, whenever I'm angry or if there's a threat. I can change into any animal, including animals that are cold blooded or aquatic. I can't change into an invertebrate though."

"Have you tried to before?"

"During a test to see what aquatic animals I could be, I tried a jellyfish and I nearly broke my back. Another time I tried a slug and it was the same problem."

I nod. "Anything else? Why can you smell people? Why do you eat meat like that?"

"You got your superhuman abilities from serum, I got mine from the animal I can transform into."

"So you have abilities from every animal on earth?"

"I think the more I turn into an animal, the more of their abilities I possess. When I was changing into aquatic animals a lot, I could breathe under water on my own. HYDRA had me test that theory after I smelled blood from the other side of the building after I had been a jaguar for four days straight. If I change into an animal more than a few times I develop their abilities, but if I don't change into them again for a while they fade. There are certain animals that I've transformed into so much that I think the abilities are permanent."

"Which animals?"

"Wolf, jaguar, cheetah, bear. Oh and I can also interact with animals too."

I can't help but let out a small chuckle. "You can talk to animals?"

She scoffs, crossing her arms. "Yes, but only while in animal form."

"Is that everything?"

"All that I can think of now. Your turn, tell me about your abilities."

"I know I fell off a train and that's how I lost my arm. I know that HYDRA put the serum in me before the train, which is why I survived the fall. The files say that they recreated the serum used on Captain America to make mine."

Robert's eyes grow wide. "Captain America, like the WWII super soldier?"

I nod. "They gave me the metal arm as a replacement,m. In the file it listed all my abilities; super strength, speed, and agility. I have regenerative healing which I didn't know about, and things like advanced durability and stamina."

"That certainly makes a lot of sense." She says rather quietly. I can tell she is referring to something that must have happened when I trained her. I only wish I could remember the year we spent together.

Taking a sip of the juice, I look back at Roberts and say with a slight smile. "When we leave the safe house can you tell me what the birds say?"

"Animals don't carry on full thoughts. It's more like; 'Food', 'My Child', 'Come I need help'. Dolphins and monkeys have more clear thoughts, so do dogs but they are just yappy and annoyingly repetitive."

Taking a moment to think about this, I set my glass down and cross my arms. "Can you change into people?"

She shakes her head. "I tried a few times. But no, just animals. The closest I can get is changing my hair color or my eyes. But there are animals I've changed into before that can do that too. Maybe if I practiced enough I could, but I have no clue how that would work."

"Are you a natural brunette?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She smiles ever so slightly. "I will not confirm nor deny that."


	15. Victims

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

My body feels hot. As the doctor powers up the machine again, I can see the electric bolts going through my toes, my fingers, my muscles, my veins, and even in my bones. The pain is worst in my head, as if someone decide to drill inside and blend my brain into liquid.

I let out a scream, which sounds muffled from the piece of wood they put in between my teeth. I feel as if I can no longer breathe.

"Longing." Zola says, standing in front of me with a red notebook, with a large star on the front.

Think of Mom, think of Dad, think of Steve. Mom's brown eyes, Dad's smile, Steve's laugh.

The hum of the machine turns on again and another wave of electricity goes through me. I can feel my muscles begin to cave, no longer struggling to break free.

"Rusted." Zola says.

Mom's cooking, Dad's horrible hunting skills, Steve's surprisingly good abilities at baseball.

The machine is turned up a notch and I feel my scream get caught in my throat and slowly die out, leaving only squeaks of pain to leave my dry mouth.

"Furnace," Zola says, eyeing me and starting to walk closer. "Daybreak."

Think of being held at night by Mom after a nightmare, how Dad taught you how to fish in the creek, think of the day you meet Steve in Kindergarten.

"Seventeen, Benign, Nine." Zola says, growing impatient.

I will not forget them. I refuse to forget them. Think hard, think of Mom's giggles, Dad's ruffling of my hair, Steve constantly getting into fights he can't win.

"Homecoming." Zola practically shouts.

No. Not this time. I will not let this win. Think of Mom's face, think of Dad's face, think of Steve's face.

"One."

Mom, Dad, Steve. Mom, Dad, Steve. Mom, Dad, Steve. Mom, Dad, Steve. Mom, Dad, Steve.

"Freight Car." Zola says, shutting the book with one hand.

The machine turns off, the smell of burned flesh fills my lungs for a moment, but I don't pay attention to that. I see the doctor standing in front of me, satisfaction written on his face.

"Solider?"

I look up at him, my mind clear, and my eyes unwavering. "Ready to comply."

-

Sitting up from the bed, I hear the last of a scream leave my mouth. My body is drenched in sweat from head to toe, with my chest rising and falling rapidly as I try to breathe. I don't stop myself as I begin to cry, covering my face with my hands and not bothering to muffle the sound. It felt so real; the doctor, the shocks, the machine. It felt real.

Because it was real. My mind whispers this fact to me, but I ignore it for now.

I hear the door creak open slowly. I don't look up to know it's Roberts. There is nothing but my muffled sobs to fill the room, but just as I think she's left, I hear her speak.

"Another nightmare?"

I look up slightly, pushing back my hair and nodding my head.

I hear her move closer towards me, placing something next to me. I lift my head up and see she brought my notebook.

Taking a deep breath, I sit up more, wiping my eyes and face. I take the notebook in my hands and hold it tightly, clearing my throat before I ask; "Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Very recently you couldn't even look me in the eyes. Now you're buying me books and extending olive branches. Why?"

Roberts sits down on the bed next to me. Her hair is very messy, with her face ridden with sleep. Pulling her hair back behind her ears, she looks from the notebook to my eyes. "It was until very recently I thought of you as one of them; just another part of the system that ruined my life. But we stormed that base together. We fought together and guarded each other's backs. Not only did you not betray me, not only did you get me my file, but you had a certain look in your eyes the second you saw the scientists and the soldiers."

"What look?"

"The look of a victim. Remember I have heightened senses. I could smell your fear, the anxiety that rose in you at being around those men. But I saw the look of determination in your eyes, and the hatred," Exhaling a breath, she continues to speak. I can feel her sincerity with every word. "You also didn't kill those scientists. You could have, especially the one who got us the files, but you showed them mercy. No one loyal to HYDRA would ever show mercy."

"Do you always do these deep psychological analysis's of people?"

"Only people I am trying to understand. You're very hard to understand."

I absentmindedly begin rubbing my metal hand, nodding my head and saying to her ironically; "Well I find myself hard to understand so don't feel to bad for not being able to either."

We sit in silence for several minutes, but it isn't awkward at all. Her silence seems to be saying that even though she can't give me any words of comfort, she knows how I feel. In its own that feels like it's own form of comfort, knowing that you aren't alone anymore.

"Do you want to be alone?" She asks, handing me my pencil.

I look back at her, starring at the pencil for a moment. I reach out my hand and grab onto it. For a moment our fingers gently brush against each other. I meet her gaze, shaking my head. "No, no I don't want to be alone."


	16. Lensk

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Leaning against a tree outside the perimeter of the Lensk HYDRA base, I watch as Roberts stands out in the open, crouched on one knee, smelling the air.

"How many?"

"This isn't like the last base, this one is more crowded. I'd say maybe 50 men and women, but all of them are throughout various parts of the complex. I think there are lower levels unlike the last one, because I smell a few people below ground. They are all scared, probably every government agency in the world is after these guys."

Loading my gun, I walk over towards her. "Well unlucky for these guys, we got to them first. You ready?"

"Just remember that there are only two of us. The record rooms and anything that's of interest to us will be in the lower levels. So let's not get carried away."

"I never get carried away." I say slightly defensive.

Something about her seems different, like there is a slight apprehension in her tone. There's something about this place that bothers her.

As she turns away from me I see she looks slightly amused at my defensiveness though. This joy fades quickly as she begins to unbutton her shirt. I realize what she's doing and instantly turn around, feeling slightly embarrassed for having waited that long to do so. After a few moments, I hear a low growl from behind me. I turn expecting to see a wolf, but instead am met with a Jaguar.

She nods her head towards the door, making her way towards the base. I quickly gather her clothes and stuff it into my backpack, taking my gun off safety and following after her. Two guards are standing at the door. Their eyes briefly fall onto me, but I'm not the reason they pull their guns out. Roberts sprints towards them, and before either can comprehend what they're doing, they are meat for the beast.

I glance at the keypad on the side of the door, rolling my eyes I kick at the door hard, watching it fall to the ground with a loud thud. Roberts jumps over the fallen door and waits for me inside, gesturing with her head towards the hallway to our right. I nod to her, following her lead. I try to not make loud footsteps as we swiftly walk through the hall, but these particularly slick floors come in handy when a pair of soldiers walk by an intersecting hall. This happens just in time for us to be able to slip into a supply closet.

Roberts senses we're all clear after a moment or two, so I follow her to the end of the hall, watching her dart quickly to the left where an elevator lies between another intersection. I slam my hand on the button to go down, meeting the faces of four soldiers when the elevator doors open. Aiming my two guns up, I shoot the two in the back of the elevator in the head and the other two in the chest. At once they drop to the floor like a doll falling from a child's grip.

Roberts and I slip into the elevator, shoving one of the bodies over with my foot to make room to stand. It is still odd for me to see Roberts in animal form. Though she clearly looks and acts like a beast, I can see her human side still there. Her facial expressions seem to transfer over during the change, and even when its physically impossible for an emotion to be conveyed, it always seems to be plastered in her face. There have also been times where she will point with her paw or leg, gesturing with her head, and even shaking her head. I would say it's the oddest thing I've seen but that'd be a lie.

The doors open again and the two of us begin our attack. Two soldiers standing outside a door become alert at the sight of us and aim their guns up, but Roberts bites down into the leg of one soldier. As the second one aims his gun at her, I shoot him in the shoulder. I place my hand on the door they were guarding and twist the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. Inside seems to be a meeting between the high ranking officers in the building; I see two lieutenants and one general. The two lieutenants stand in alert as soon as the door bursts open, but the general, a middle aged man with a passive look on his face, sits still.

I raise my gun to all three men, hearing Roberts's loud growl at my side. "Gentlemen, as long as you follow directions, no one has to die," I say, particularly pointing my gun at the younger of the lieutenants whose hands are beginning to shake as he holds his pistol. "You might think that three guns against one and an animal are good odds, but you are surely mistaken. You are looking at two of the monsters you've created and I guarantee you don't want us to show you what we're capable of."

The younger lieutenant sets his gun down on the table, grabbing onto his shaking hand to try and steady it. The other lieutenant reluctantly puts his gun down as well after getting a kirt nod from the general. It's odd that these men are still in a HYDRA base, especially one this large. But I have encountered many agents and officers who would rather die than abandon their cause. These rats must want to die with the ship.

"It was only a matter of time since HYDRA fell; for the disloyal curs to bare their teeth at their masters." The general says, leaning back in his chair.

Feeling annoyance rise, I take a step towards them, nodding my head for Roberts to advance. I watch as she gets close enough to the table to jump onto it if she wished, but she doesn't. Instead she places her paws onto the edge of the table, starring the bastards down.

"Now, tell me what you know about Arnim Zola." I say firmly.

Both lieutenants genuinely look confused at the name, and even as Roberts grows lowly, that expression doesn't change. The general seems like he knows the name, but I believe him when he says; "All I know is that he was one of the only members to survive WWII. I know he was a scientist and I know he was the genius who created you. Other than that I have no idea."

I don't like how he said 'created', like I am the freakish creation of Victor Frankenstein. "What about Vasily Karpov? What do you know of him?"

"I knew him quiet well before he died. He ran the Winter Solider program, but you of course knew that already didn't you? Vasily used to brag of how his methods of discipline and order were designed to last forever. He used to say no matter how many years the subject was away from his superiors he could always be reconditioned." the general says, his face growing from neutral to sick and amused. "Tell me, how difficult is it to not remember who you are? I'm sure you remember being an agent here, with a few cracks here and there, but not knowing your own name? Your mother's face? Not remembering life outside these walls? I visited your base in Siberia once, saw you and the other soldiers training in an iron cage; like rabid beasts starving for their next kill."

I charge up to the general and push the barrel of my gun into his temple. "If you say one more goddamn word I will put a bullet in your skull."

I hear Roberts growl loudly from behind me, but I almost can't hear her over the pounding of my heart in my ears. "Now, your usefulness is running out, so behave while I have an ounce of self control left. Do you know where her family is?" I say pointing back at Roberts, whose now starring strictly to the older lieutenant. "Her name is Soroya Roberts, otherwise known as The Savage. Her family were taken by HYDRA 14 years ago. Do you know where they are."

"I have no clue, and even if I did I wouldn't tell you about it."

"Do you know if any of the men or women in charge of her are still alive?"

The general looks from me to Roberts, and let's out a sigh. "I last heard her combat instructor, Richard Setherton, was living in retirement in Mirny. I can't wait to hear the story of your demise once you go see him."

Tempted to shoot, I force my hand to inch back, walking away from the table and towards the door. But as I turn back to the general, seeing the smile on his face, I can't help myself. "It's painful; not remembering who you are or where you come from. But you, no one will remember you, and the ones that do, will know that I was the one that killed you." I say, starring the man in the eyes as I pull the trigger.


	17. Zola’s File

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

A few hours later, Roberts and I are in another stolen car. She insisted on driving, which I thanked her for because it gives me time to read through some of the files I stole from the base in Lensk.

After we killed the general, we left the two lieutenants alive. We forced them to take us to their records room and ask if they kept their information in any other place. They had said no. After leaving them we even interrogated some of the scientists working in the only lab in the base on the third floor, but they gave us the same dead end. They could have been lying, I doubt it though. Given my time in HYDRA I have lived amongst liars for decades, I am quickly able to recognize one by now. From what I'm looking at though, the files we managed to get are plenty enough.

There were prison cells in the Lensk base, and as we searched through them, she didn't seem hopeful at finding them at all. She seemed like she knew her family wouldn't be there. She didn't seem that way at the last base we went to, which makes me wonder if this used to be her base. She looked very grateful when we left, like she had been holding her breath the entire time we were there and now she could finally breathe.

We didn't find any files on her family, but we did find some information on us. My file has more of the same information in it, thought it gave a more detailed description of my assassinations and missions. I began to read them when we had first gotten into the car, but doing so was too painful; I remember my missions all too well and reliving them is something I never want to do.

A file of interest we did find at the Lensk base was Arnim Zola's. In Zola's file, I am finding information that is very crucial to me. Along with things I had read in the museum about him, this file also tells details about his past and his life before HYDRA. It's hard to imagine him without that corrupt organization, but I guess no one is born a psychopath.

———————————————————————  
full name: Arnim Zola  
gender: male  
birth date: unknown  
birth place: Switzerland  
Programs:  
Winter Soldier Program  
———————————————————————

I glance at the picture of Zola, focusing on the round rimmed glasses, his sickly pale complexion, and his wisps of hair. I then get a flash of myself grabbing onto something rather heavy and dragging it across the floor. A hand shoots out, grabbing onto my metal arm for dear life, but then it limply falls back to the ground. I realize what I'm dragging is a person, and as the person faints again, I drop their body at Zola's feet. I see him bend down and touch the person's head gently, before he looks back up at me. "Good work, Soldier."

It was odd. I remember Zola's face and I have vivid memories of him and the time he spent overseeing me. His experimenting on me and the initial training I must've gotten is completely erased from my memory though. It truly does feel like I didn't have a life at all before HYDRA.

Feeling my heart beginning to beat rather quickly, I try to focus on my breathing. I feel my grip tightening on the car door, but I instantly let go for fear of breaking it. After a moment or two, I look back at the file.

———————————————————————  
Kummersdorf:  
Zola worked in Sturmabeilung's Weapons Testing Grounds in Kummersdorf during Nazi occupation in 1934. Johan Schmidt (founder and the first leader of HYDRA) found the testing grounds and murdered everyone on the sight, leaving Zola alive and recruiting him to work as a geneticist. He wanted Zola to create a serum to make Schmidt into a superior being.

The First Serum:  
In November of 1940, Schmidt tested the unstable serum, which did give him he strength he desired, but it disfigured his face to the point he no longer had skin and appeared to only have his muscles. A couple days later Zola had visited Dr. Abraham Erskine and wanted him to make the serum, or else Schmidt would kill him. Under mysterious circumstances though, Erskine escaped, and Schmidt was left to accept his new appearance.

———————————————————————

Well. It appears there were multiple batches of the serum. Thank god I hadn't been captured earlier or else I would look like a walking skeleton. This does make me wonder though; if the serum had been so important, so important in fact that the leader of HYDRA at the time was the only one to have used it, why was it experimented on me?

———————————————————————  
The Raid Of Captain America:  
In November 1943, the Super-Soldier Captain America, created by Abraham Erskine's successful experiment, arrived at the HYDRA base in Austria to rescue the Allied soldiers they were using as menial labor there. When Johann Schmidt hit the self-destruct on the base, most of the weapons and information kept there was destroyed, apart from files and documents Zola stole himself and some files and maps Captain America stole and took with him along with all the allied prisoners.

Capture:  
After an attack on a train Zola was hidden on, he was captured by Allied forces and sent in for questioning. During an interrogation with Colonel Chester Philips, Zola managed to get recruited for the Allies and begin to grow HYDRA underneath the unknowing Americans.  
———————————————————————

I skim through the rest of the document, trying to find any information on his being alive still or not. I remember him leaving my stationed base and then Karpov automatically filling his shoes. I have no clue when or where that was, it could have been half a century ago.

I find a small paragraph that says Arnim Zola's body died in 1972. I start to get confused on why they worded it that way, but then the file says his mind was put into a computer system to be reserved. As my brain starts to plot out a plan to go see him and this base, I realize my anticipation for this meeting is premature. When I look at the location his brain is held, I realize I know this location; I sent bombs to this place because Rogers had been there.

I glance over to Roberts, who is mostly focusing her attention on the road, but is lightly humming to the song playing on the radio. Her fingers are tapping slightly on the wheel as well. This peeks my curiosity.

"What song is this?"

She glances at me with a sort of glazed look, like I had just pulled her out of a deep thought. "It's 'Please Mr. Postman' by the Marvelettes," she says, glancing down at the car radio with a smile. "They were my father's favorite band besides The Andrew Sisters."

Well I knew who The Andrew Sisters were, but the other band was unfamiliar to me. I place my fingers on the knob and turn the volume up, listening intently for a few moments to the song.

As we both do so, I can't help but watch her and the thoughts of her father begin to cloud her mind as they so clearly do. She went from absentmindedly tapping her fingers to now having a look of both joy and melancholy. I find myself wanting to give her some form of comfort, but I don't know how. I don't even remember my own father, even less his favorite bands.

"They're very good," I say once the song finally ends, turning the knob back down. "From what I've heard from the 60's it is definitely not the best decade for music. I still say 30's and 40's were the peek of music."

"How can you not like the 60's? The Beach Boys, Marvin Gaye, Neil Diamond, The Beatles! Legends were made in the 60's."

"Music died with Bing Crosby and Ella Fitzgerald." I say, looking back down at the files and trying to reread some of the earlier sections.

"You would think that, old man." I hear her mutter.

I whip my head up, glaring in her direction. "I am not an old man."

"Of course you are. You're in your 90's, that's what I would call old." She says with a small smile growing.

Given that this is the first time she's joked with me, I smile as well, forgetting for a moment we are smiling over her insulting me.

"If you want me to drive I can take over. You may want to look into your file."

She shakes her head, glancing to the floor to where her file from Lensk is. "While you were stealing the car I glanced at it. It doesn't tell me anything I don't already know. The only person right now that can give me answers is Setherton." She says, and I can tell by the mention of her file that there was truly something about that base that bothered her.

"Do you think the general was lying?"

I can see doubt run across Roberts face, but it leaves quickly as she glances over to me. "If he was, then we are either going to a dead man's house or we're walking into a trap. Hopefully the address we found for him is accurate. I have to know though. I have to."

I try to think of something to say. 'I know you do and we will figure out the truth' or 'I'm here to help' come to mind but none leave my tongue.

Roberts turns the volume back up, looking over to me with a smirk. "Oh look, Ella Fitzgerald. Do you want me to turn it up louder so you can hear it? I know how sensitive your ears must be given your age."

I hold up the file in my hands with a warning look. "I have a file and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Don't bust a hip." She says, and turns up the volume more so I can't follow up with another comment. Instead I am left sort of speechless, thinking about the interaction we just had. We were smiling, laughing even. I can't even remember the last time I laughed.


	18. The Savage

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

I was laughing. I was actually laughing. I can't remember the last time I did that. Maybe it was with Julian. Maybe it was with my brother after school when we would play with his train set in the yard. Laughing felt good, but somehow even now with HYDRA gone, it felt like a luxury I don't have.

I look over at Barnes, who for the past thirty minutes has been trying to get some sleep. He had offered to drive, but I saw how drained he looked, how desperately he needed rest. But as I stare at him, his head leaning against the window with his arms wrapped around his chest, I notice he looks tense. I've heard people say dreams are when you find peace, but he and I both know HYDRA doesn't allow you to have peace. They haunt you even when your eyes are shut.

God how awful it must be for him. I have dreams that haunt me too; of the time I spent in cells and the years of torture I endured. But I only have been haunted for a little over a decade. He has been haunted for seven.

I look back at the road and release a sigh, slightly frustrated. I don't know what to think or feel when it comes to Barnes. My initial thoughts of him were obviously hostile given what he did to me, but from the moment we agreed to be allies, I knew something was different about him from the last time we met. He has trusted me to guard him while he slept, to fight by his side, to see him crying and screaming from his nightmares. Even though I know I shouldn't, I know I trust him too.

I remember my brother telling me once that one of my greatest flaws was that I trusted people too easily. My mother then sat me down, and she said 'Do not look at people with yours eyes or mind and make a judgement, you must look with your heart, and trust that it can see who people really are.'

Fourteen years in HYDRA taught me the opposite; that believing everyone wants to kill you is the only way to survive. I'm in a car with HYDRA's most deadliest assassin, one who subjected me to pain I will never forget for as long as I live. I should hate him, I should expect that at any moment he will point a gun at my head. But I didn't hate him, even though for so long I couldn't bare the thought of him. My heart tells me he won't try to kill me, it tells me he is just like me; a puppet that had their strings pulled for too long.

Barnes's eyes fly open and he releases a heavy breath. He glances over at me, before looking down at his hands and beginning to rub them over to face, letting them fall down onto his lap after a moment. I know what he's doing, he's reassuring himself he isn't in whatever horrific nightmare he just relived. I've been there.

"Are we there yet?"

"According to the address I found at the Lensk base, yes we should be coming up on the house in a minute."

Barnes doesn't talk for several moments. I think he might have gone back to sleep, but when I glance over at him, I find him to be starring at me. I meet his eyes, and for a second we sit there like that, him analyzing me and me analyzing him, before I look back to the road.

"Are you going to be okay in there? Seeing Setherton again?"

That's a good question, one I couldn't answer. I want to say I'll be fully capable and levelheaded when I see him again, but I think that's a lie. "I have to be. He may be the key to all the questions I have."

"What animal are you gonna be?"

"No animal. I want him to see my face when I'm questioning him. I want my face to be the last thing he sees before he dies," I say stiffly, feeling my heart begin to beat quicker as I spot a house coming up on a hill. "Just promise me you'll let me have him."

Barnes nods, leaning back to grab his backpack. He brings his M-16 out, loading a new magazine. I pull the car over to the grass, turning the engine off and grabbing onto my own gun. Getting out of the car, I get a good look at the house. It's small; two floors with probably only two bedrooms. It's paint is starting to come off its sides and the plants growing in the lawn look long dead. The house itself is on top of a small hill, where a large field of grass surrounds it. It looks peaceful, but only we know the chaos inside this peaceful house.

"Follow my lead." I say to Barnes over my shoulder, making my way to the door. He keeps closely behind me, having his gun aimed in preparation for any surprises. I touch the sun warmed knob, surprised to find it unlocked. I twist it, letting the coming breeze push the door open. Bringing out my own gun, I aim it up, taking my first steps into the lion's den.

Stairs is directly in front of the door, with a laundry room directly to the right. To the left is a small hallway, which Barnes and I travel down cautiously. The interior walls, like the outside of the house, have peeling paint and holes in the walls. There are no pictures, no items or clothes lying around. It's like a ghost house.

I take in a deep breath, feeling nearly faint as I pick up Setherton's sent. He's always smelled strongly of cloves. I feel nauseous as I walk closer to the living room where the scent is coming from. I round the corner, aiming my gun high as I find my old instructor in a reclining chair in front of a record player. I remember having to see his face everyday for nearly five years; having him beat me, torture me, scream at me and tell me how worthless I was. He would tell me if I didn't become perfect, my family would suffer every cut, bruise, and broken bone I did.

Sitting in the chair is the same man, much older though. His hair is almost completely greyed, his crinkles and bags formed under both eyes. When those eyes fall onto me, I don't see hostility or anger, but amusement.

"So the pup has finally made her way back to the alpha," Setherton says, turning his body fully to me. "Hello little pup."

I feel like I am going to vomit. I remember when he used to call me that; using it taunt me or worse. Seeing those blue grey eyes again, seeing his sickening smile as he plays his mind games, I begin to feel claustrophobic. I feel like I'm trapped in an iron cage, like the one they kept me in.

"My name is Soroya," I say firmly, clutching my gun tightly. "And I don't belong to you. Now you're going to tell me what I want to know and then you're going to die."

Setherton places his hands on his lap, clasping his hands together. "What is it you want to know...Soroya." He says, lingering on my name, saying each syllable slowly. It's making chills go down my spine.

Keeping my gun aimed at his head, I take a step closer, feeling Barnes's presence closely behind me. "Where is my family?"

Setherton blinks. "Your family?"

"Yes my family. Anika, Joseph, and Alexander Roberts. They were taken when I was, used as leverage to get you monsters to control me. Now tell me where they are being kept."

Setherton's facial expression turns from amused to indifferent as he says; "I wouldn't know. HYDRA gave me a runt to work with and I turned her into a wolf. I know nothing about your family, my guess is that they were shot the moment they took you away from them. HYDRA don't keep prisoners unless they are useful and the family of a child isn't useful."

Feeling my hands begin to shake, I let out a deep breath and try to keep looking at him. I won't let him see my fear. "Do you know how this happened to me?"

"You mean your gifts? If I did know I would have had a whole pack of you under my command. All I know is that sixteen years ago, agents Sarah O'Mally, Alexei Christianson, and Anthony Smith brought you in. They told me to train you to be one of our best. It's clear I succeeded."

"Are any of those agents still alive?"

"Last I heard, agent Christianson is living in an apartment complex in Vorkuta. He retired shortly after bringing you in," he says, looking over my shoulder to Barnes, who I hadn't noticed until now. "It looks like two wolves have come here today. It is nice to finally meet you agent Barnes. While you two are visiting old friends, you should visit Vasily Karpov, he would love to see you again."

I take my eyes off of Setherton for a second to glance at Barnes, who looks as confused as I probably do. "I was told Karpov is dead."

"No no, my boy, far from it. I had lunch with him last week in Zima," He says, still the picture of calm. "I'm surprised to see you standing by his side, little pup. Especially after what happened in Siberia. Was I your least favorite teacher, is that it? If so I'm offended."

At the mention of Siberia I feel my breath catch in my chest. I slowly put my gun down, letting my arms fall to my sides. "I had to see your face everyday for years. I had to hear your screams, feel the pain you caused me. Is there not one small part of you that feels remorse at all?"

Setherton slowly stands, making Barnes and I both stiffen and aim at his head. Setherton holds a hand up, as if telling us to relax. He slides his hands into the pockets of his pants, his smile returning. "Not at all. My greatest accomplishment in my life was creating The Savage. Now, I am an old man, my days instructing soldiers are long gone. Even at my best I wouldn't be a match for the both of you. So even though this is undoubtedly my end, I am satisfied knowing this; that even though I cannot do anything to you now, that I have already done all the damage I can to you. That shaking of yours hands, the sweat forming at your brow and neck, your tense muscles and most especially the fear in your eyes, was all put there by me. So even though I will die today, I can die knowing that I will always be with you."

I can feel every cell in my body boil, wanting to deny what he says even though deep down I know he's right. I look down at my hand, watching the gun gripped in my fingers shake. Lifting it, I aim it not at his head, but at his heart. I steady my voice long enough to say this; "You're right. You've done too much damage to me for me to forget you for some time. But if you think for one second that I'll carry you with me, you're wrong. You no longer control me, nor does HYDRA. You are apart of an ugly part of the world, and it's dying out quickly. When all of HYDRA finally dies, I will still be here. I will be here fighting, and living, and healing. There will be a day when I do forget you, and all of the horrors you inflicted won't even cross my mind anymore."

Setherton smiles at me. "Come now, little pup. Don't deny who you really are. You'll always be The Savage."

"I told you," I say to him, feeling my lips quiver. "My name is Soroya Roberts, and you don't control me anymore." I pull the trigger, watching as his smile falters and his body crumbles to the ground.


	19. Burn It All

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

Starring down at Setherton's dead body, I feel my knees buckle under me. Dropping to the floor, I loose grip of my gun and hear it smack onto the floor right before I do. Feeling myself begin to hyperventilate, I hold both sides of my head and try to count my breaths.

He's dead. I killed him. I shouldn't have done that. I stare at my hands, feeling disgust rise in me and my gut begin to twist into knots. I let revenge control me. Killing in self defense is one thing, but cold blooded murder is entirely another. I'm not better than him.

Gently, I feel Barnes's hand touch my shoulder. I stiffen from the touch at first, but after a few seconds I relax, welcoming the feeling. It's as if his hand are the only thing holding me down in reality.

"That was wrong. I shouldn't have done that." I whisper.

Barnes kneels down to be at my eyes level, shaking his head lightly. "He was an evil man. The world is better without him."

I shake my head, feeling another tear roll down my cheek. "HYDRA teaches you to become a killer, they teach you to act on revenge and anger. I don't want to be like them. I don't want to become them."

I see something stirring in his eyes that I can't place, but he squeezes my shoulder tighter. "I know a killer when I see one. You definitely aren't a killer," he tells me, his voice soft and understanding. Slowly Barnes retracts his hand, standing up. "We should check the rest of the house, see if he's holding any information about you."

Wiping my eyes, I push myself off the ground, picking my gun up in the process. I clear my throat, nodding to Barnes in agreement. "Let's go together though, who knows what he put in the house."

Making our way out of the living room, we make our way back down the hall, towards the stairs in front of the entrance. The steps creak beneath us as we climb and the scent of cloves grows stronger as we reach the top. Placing my hand on the wall, I begin to feel slightly lightheaded. Barnes looks to me in alarm. "What is it?"

"His cologne. That smell of cloves, it just...it just brings back a lot..." I say, leaning my head against the railing.

"Why don't you wait downstairs."

"We shouldn't—"

"That man can't do anything to us. He's dead. If I need your help I'll yell. Go check the rest of the main floor. Roberts you knew him best, think of anywhere he might have hidden something."

Reluctantly I nod my head, slowly making my way back down the stairs, holding onto the rail tightly. I walk into the laundry room, finding nothing but a washer and drier, with some laundry detergent spilled onto the floor. There is a door next to the drier and I open it to find the kitchen. There is a stove, pantry, and a fridge that is in desperate need of restocking. If the rest of the house looks lifeless, this room is disturbingly filled with color and light. The paint on the walls is a bright yellow. Jars of flowers line both windows opposite me. I open the pantry door, letting out a sigh. Instead of cereal boxes and cookies, the pantry is filled with boxes. Once I open them, I am happy to find piles of documents and files within.

"Barnes! Barnes get down here!" I yell. A few seconds later Barnes is at my side, his gun out, aiming it at the pantry. When his eyes fall to the boxes, he sets his gun down on the floor, grabbing a box himself and setting it down next to me.

Looking through the first box, I find to my surprise, a large file about a young woman named Alissa Clingens. She was apparently under Setherton's instruction from 1978 to 1983. She was fourteen at her time of 'recruitment' and died at the age of twenty during a mission in Moscow.

Under her file are notebooks and papers. As I read them I recognize Setherton's handwriting. I realize he kept track of her progress all five years of her being in HYDRA. He details her sleeping and eating habits, her height and weight, and her daily progress in regards to fighting and weapons training.

I look over at Barnes, seeing he too is reading through another set of notebooks and files. "Who is the file about?"

He glances up at me, placing the papers down. "Some man named Archibald Mitchell. He was an agent for fifteen years before he was shot for treason in 2003."

Wiping straggling tears from my cheeks, I let out a scoff. "Setherton kept track of everything. I used to see him write out reports and stuff, but he kept track of eating habits, sleeping habits. Hell he knows the bowl movements of this girl."

"For them it's all about control, you know that."

Looking up at him, I begin to wonder if there is the same documentation for him out there. I wouldn't want to read through those papers; page after page of horrible violence to crack Barnes's brain like an egg. I refocus my attention back on the boxes in front of me, not wanting to think about that anymore.

"Search through the rest of the boxes, let's see if he gave me the same treatment as everyone else."

I make sure there is nothing hidden in the box in front of me, but everything seems to be about Alissa Clingens. I look over in the box Barnes has, and see it's the same. I just have to find my box. Looking back up at the pantry, I see four other boxes. Barnes and I grab them all out and begin sifting through. The first box I find is about Ramona Jennings; a twenty three year old agent who died from poison in 1997. The next one being about a boy named Oliver Harrington; a nine year old boy who only lasted a year in HYDRA before the burned him alive for disobedience.

"Roberts, I found it."

Moving the boxes aside, I lean over to him and begin looking through my personal box of torture.

———————————————————————  
November 11th, 2001

Agent Roberts is better than anything I could have hoped for. Not only are her gifts unique and proving useful to our cause, but her pure determination and intelligence makes her the best student I have ever had.

Her sleeping patterns have been normal, getting seven hours of sleep last night, having fallen asleep at 10 and waking at 5.

She ate breakfast, her usual eggs and toast, but skipped lunch given the discipline I had to give her today for not meeting last weeks shifting average. I used a new tactic of discipline that has proven affective today; a long metal baton. Her bruises and cuts shall heal shortly. I sent her to Remington to work overnight on her shifting so we will not get set back again.

She ate dinner at 8, having potatoes and some greens, before taking a shower for the allowed fifteen minutes, and falling asleep once again at 10.  
———————————————————————

I flip through the papers, finding in one stack, a year's worth of daily recordings of me. Not wanting to read anymore of them, I set them aside and look through the notebooks, all of which seems to cover my progress in other areas; like my abilities, my languages, my marksmanship training. I open the one documenting me learning how to shoot, and as I skim it, I find that it isn't written by Barnes as I would have thought, but by Vasily Karpov.

I hand the notebook over to Barnes, watching him give me a confused look as he opens it. "That notebook details you training me in marksmanship, but it's written by Karpov."

Barnes nods to me, sitting back slightly and opening the notebook to read through. At first I didn't believe Barnes when he said he said he was brainwashed, but given his genuine confusion and clear trauma I have no doubt that's true. He appears to remember a lot of being an active HYDRA agent, except for a few cracks her and there. But given him being frozen and being electrically shocked, it makes sense. He may not remember the year he spent with me in Siberia, but I will never forget it. From day one he was just as heartless and calculating as Setherton, but Barnes was more robotic, as if he had been programmed to act and talk the way he did. Which clearly he was.

When I was first brought in to see him, he wasn't wearing a mask like he did for most of the time after, his face was fully showing. I remember he had his hair tied back, which made his blue eyes stick out, looking cold like ice. I remember thinking he was beautiful; a beautiful exterior for a monster lying beneath the skin. Looking at him now he is still beautiful, but in a tragic and sorrowful way. He's like a personified Edgar Allen Poe poem.

Turning back to my box, I try to find any information regarding my family and their whereabouts. After reading each page and notebook, I find nothing. What I do find is an address to a lab in Zima, Russia, where Setherton wrote; 'Becker wants Roberts to be sent to Zima lab for testing, but since the program is being shut down, I don't want my star pupil to fall into hands like hers'.

"We're going to Zima."

Barnes looks up from the notebook I gave him, nodding his head. "According to Setherton, Karpov is living there. Is there another reason now?"

"A lab that Setherton wrote down here. It says someone named Becker wanted me tested there several years ago and he refused her. He said didn't want me to fall into their clutches."

Barnes places the notebook in his pocket, picking his gun up and standing. Gesturing to the boxes, he says; "What do you want to do with all this? We can't carry the whole box with us."

Standing up myself, I look down at all the information below me, all the documented lives of people taken from their homes, their families, and their lives just like me. Thinking of them, seeing their names, it makes me sick. My eyes specifically landing on little Oliver, who was murdered at the age of nine for not living up to HYDRA's standards.

"I want it all gone. These boxes, this house, Setherton. I want to burn it all."

Barnes looks around the room, walking towards the laundry room. He returns moments later with some lighter fluid and a lighter. He hands me the lighter and begins to pour the liquid over the boxes, stepping aside to allow me to light it ablaze. We walk back into the living room, pouring the lighter fluid on Setherton's body. I should feel relieved that he's dead, but as I stare at his body, all I feel is guilt. I made a promise to myself so long ago that I wouldn't let HYDRA change me into one of them. I intend to keep that promise. I will not let revenge drive me again.

Handing the lighter fluid back to Barnes, I drop the lighter onto Setherton's body, watching as his body goes ablaze. The living room starts to burn as Barnes pours the fluid around the entire room. Even as we exit the house and watch as the house begins to burn, I feel uneasy with myself. My only relief is the burning of those boxes; the burning of the documentation of the innocent people taken by HYDRA. It's the small bit of peace I can grant them. I hope one day I will achieve the peace they were robbed of.


	20. The Laboratory

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Hand in hand, Roberts and I walk through the jetway. I tighten the straps of my backpack as we look at the signs to find a taxi to order, making sure my hood and hat are on tightly.

Passing by a couple security guards, I bring Roberts's hand, still intertwined with my own, up to my mouth and plant a kiss on it. Without having to glance, she squeezes my hand and leans her head against my shoulder, letting her hair fall across her face as we silently pass the three men.

Once we pass them we spot the exit to the airport, where a small sign says; Taxi Orders in Russian. Letting go of my hand, Roberts pushes her hair back from her face and behind her ear, opening her backpack to grab some cash. I'm surprised at how soft her hands are. With our line of work, I expected hers to be as calloused and hardened as my own, but they're not. I guess the fact she usually fights in another form might contribute to this, but for some reason I can't seem to get this out of my head.

Pushing through the exit doors, I raise my hand in the air and hail a taxi. We watch as one pulls over and a middle aged woman with greying red hair pokes her head out of the window, smiling at us widely.

We both slip inside, intertwining our hands once again and forcing smiles the taxi driver's way. "Where are you two kids heading?" She asks sweetly.

"I wrote it down for you." Roberts says, handing the driver an address on an airplane napkin.

"Zima! It is so beautiful there this time of year. You on vacation?"

Roberts smiles, looking over to me, squeezing my hand tightly. "We're on our honeymoon. We got married a couple weeks ago."

"How great! I hope you two have a long and happy marriage."

I look over to Roberts and push a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaving my fingers lingering on her cheek as the driver turns around and begins to pull out of the airport. Once the driver's attention is on the road, I retract my hand, awkwardly placing it on my lap. Roberts keeps her hand in mine, hesitantly placing her head on my shoulder and shutting her eyes. She seems quite relaxed, more so than I've ever seen her. Part of me feels like I should retract my hand or move away. But we are playing a part right now...and I'd be lying if I said having her leaning against me didn't make me feel relaxed as well. In HYDRA, even something as simple as human touch is a luxury I never had. Being able to have it now somehow makes me forget where we're heading and where we have been. It makes me appreciate the here and now.

-

I watch as the taxi drives away from us, leaving Roberts and I starring at a seemingly abandoned warehouse. The driver gave us a confused look when we arrived here, seeing the less than ideal location for our fake honeymoon. I had to stifle a chuckle as Roberts informed the lady that 'it may not look like much, but the spa and room service is excellent.'

Walking towards the warehouse, I make sure my gun is loaded, placing my knife inside my pocket. "If we run into someone what form are you taking?"

"I'm thinking a jaguar again."

"Now don't start being unoriginal."

Roberts shoots me a glare. "Alright then a tiger. They're big, they're predators, it's easy to bite things."

"How about a bear?"

Loading her own gun, she shakes her head. "If it pleases you, old man, I'll be a bear."

Kicking down the door, I am very surprised to find that it looks like an ordinary warehouse. There are rows of empty wooden tables, with benches lining each side. There are cracks in the ceiling which provides the minimal light in the whole room. From the small streaks of light, I can see dust particles floating through the air like a thick flog, so much so as I take in a breath I start a coughing fit. Roberts coughs harder, but this makes sense given her senses are much higher than mine.

"Any chance you can turn into an animal that emits light? I can't see anything." I ask her, clearing my throat.

"Most animals who can are sea creatures and I need water to do that. I can turn into an animal that can see in the dark though. I can find the entrance to the real lab."

She hands her gun over to me along with her backpack, Taking a few steps forward. I watch her stretch out her arms and slowly bow her head. With small jump in the air, she shifts and transforms into an owl. She flaps her wings and begins to fly around the warehouse, looking for anything that might show us to Becker's lab. Looking down at the floor I see that her clothes are lying there still intact, so I gather those up for her.

Gliding around the floor, gradually making her way up, she eventually lands near the other side of the warehouse. I hear a screech, so I assume she found something. With some difficulty I am able to make my way towards her, following the flapping sounds of her wings as she tries to guide me to her. When I reach her, she gestures with her beak to a small lever next to her head, one that blends right into the wood. A passerby could never have spotted it. Hitting the lever, we both wait as a loud clinking sound echoes through the air. On the floor a few feet from us appears a flight of stairs, leading deeper into the ground.

I look to the owl next to me. "Don't shift back yet, who knows how long it's been since someone's been here."

Roberts nods her little head, flying over to my shoulder. I descend the stairs, keeping one hand on the wall to make sure I don't slip and tumble into the darkness below. Once I hit the last step, I turn my head to Roberts. It's so dark I can't see her even though she's on my shoulder. "Find a light switch or a lantern," I tell her, throwing her clothes onto the ground. I add: "I just placed your clothes down so you can change."

I feel Roberts fly off of my shoulder, her flapping wings filling the silent room. After a minute or two, the lights flicker on from the hanging lights above. I spot Roberts back in human form, her clothes back on, with her hand on the light switch a few feet from me. She walks back towards me and extends her hand. I give her gun back to her as her backpack. Without wasting another second, the two of us begin searching the lab.

The lab itself is much smaller than I would have thought; probably as big as a school cafeteria. Where Roberts is currently walking through, there is everything you would think to find in a lab; tables, microscopes, equipment, tools, and what seems to be our new best friend; files and documents.

On the side of the lab I'm on though, there is only two tables; they're attached to wheels and are on either side of a machine. I feel rather light headed as I look at this machine, feeling goosebumps go down my arms and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There is a large cushioned plank on this machine in the shape of a body, with metal cuffs near where arms and legs would be. Above where someone's head would go is a long metal arm with a round band attached to it.

I know I've never been to Zima before, at least not that I can remember, but as I walk forward and gently lay a finger on the cold metal arm, a memory jumps into my mind. Zola isn't the face I see in this memory, but a soldier, a very young soldier. The machine I'm in, identical to the one I've been seeing in other flashes and the one I'm touching now, isn't on or being operated, it's clear i was electrocuted the day before. The scientists and whoever were in charge left me there overnight. This soldier, a look of fear and apprehension in his gaze, began to touch the metal cuffs and arm attached to my head. I feel their weight slowly lift off of me, and before I know it, my body crumbles to the floor.

The soldier, hesitantly touching my shoulder, tries to lift me up. Despite the torture my reflexes are too quick, my metal arm extends out and grasps his neck. He frantically tries to escape my grasp, repeatedly telling me; 'I'm helping you escape! I'm helping you escape!'

But I don't listen. All I see is someone trying to get in the way of my mission, of my purpose, and for that I snap his neck. I watch as his body grows limp, his pleas of mercy dying on his lips.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I find myself clutching the machine, feeling my knees hit the ground. I can't breathe. I don't even think I have lungs anymore. The light all the sudden feels far too bright, making my eyes feel like they're burning. I begin to clutch the side of my face, trying to block everything out. I hear Roberts drop down to her knees in front of me, her hands peeling my arms away from my face.

"Barnes, Barnes look at me! Look at me Barnes!" She keeps saying, but I can't hear her. All I can hear is my own rapid breaths and the beat of my heart in my ears. I can't bring myself to focus on her.

She places her hands on the side of my face, brushing the hair out of my eyes and forcing me to look at her. I try to focus on her eyes, the deep brown they are, the intensity in them. I then look down at her mouth, which is moving rather quickly. I strain my ears and try to hear her, barely being able to make out what she says; "Barnes, focus on my voice, try to focus on my voice. Do you hear me?"

I try to nod, but I'm failing. I try to mutter a response and I'm able to get out; "I...I hear you."

"Do you see me?"

"I see you."

"Focus on my hands," she says, gently caressing the side of my face. "You feel that? Do you feel me?"

Feeling my eyes begin to refocus, beginning to hear more than my heartbeat, and feeling the warmth of her hands against my cheeks, I am able to nod my head. "I feel you."

Roberts nods, dropping her hands down to my shoulders and then to my hands. She helps me to my feet, keeping a firm grip on my hands. I am grateful for this, because once again, her touch keeps me grounded. Squeezing my hands, she brings my eyes back down to her. "What was that? What'd you see?"

"Later...I'll tell you later. Right now, we need to search this place for information."

"Already got it," she says, walking over to the table closest to us and picking up a file. She hands it over to me and I see there is large text on the front of it, with these words in capital letters; PROJECT SHIFTER. I look back up at Roberts, seeing the look of anticipation on her face. "There aren't any other files in here that could be about me, or you for that matter. But 'project shifter', that has to be about me."

I hand her back the file, looking back at the machine. "Let's find a place to stay tonight, I need to get out of here."

Roberts nods her head, grabbing onto my arm she leads me back up the stairs. I can't help but look again at the machine, reliving the horrid memory I wish wasn't true.


	21. PROJECT SHIFTER

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

"We aren't finding some abandoned building tonight." I say to Barnes, taking a different exit on the road.

Barnes looks to me in confusion, but doesn't say anything. He just takes a deep breath and returns to his thoughts. He hasn't said much since we left the lab. It scared me half to death when he dropped to the ground like that. I could hear how fast his heart was beating, I could smell the adrenaline pumping through him. He had a panic attack. It was probably caused by a flash of something while we were in there, but of what exactly?

Seeing a large neon green sign saying; 'motel', I pull into one of the vacant parking spots, turning off the car. Looking over to Barnes, and seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, I say; "While I look through the files I want you to relax. Go take a shower and get some sleep, I'll wake you up when I get tired."

Leaning his head against the seat, he turns his head sideways to look at me. "You sure?"

"Yeah, just don't use up all the hot water. I haven't showered since the last safe house we went to."

The two of us get out of the car, grabbing our backpacks and supplies before heading inside the motel. The inside is just as dim and dusty as the outside, with a muted yellow paint and dark green carpet. There are several pictures of flowers in vases on the walls; all looking just as pleasant as the woman at the front desk. She has the deepest scowl on her face. She looks like this is the last place on earth she wants to be.

Knocking my knuckles against the front desk, I get her attention from the romance novel she was reading. Her gaze as she looks up are like daggers coming from her eyes. "May I help you?" She asks curtly.

"We'd like a room." I say, wrapping my arm around Barnes's waist. He smiles at the woman, wrapping his concealed metal arm around my shoulder. Given the weight he is putting on me I think he is doing this for physical support rather than the act.

Still glaring at us, the woman hands us a bronze key. Forcing a smile, I glance down at the key to see a number 6 on it. I begin leading Barnes down the hall towards our room.

"Are you alright?" I whisper to him, spotting the number six attached to the wall next to a dark wooded door.

Barnes nods, leaning against the wall as I turn the key in the lock. As the door swings open I grab hold of him again; the two of us standing in the doorway, starring at the contents of our room. There is a small closet next to the entrance, with a door beside it that probably leads to a bathroom. There's a desk in the far corner of the room with a small tv on top. Across from it is a large king sized bed. My attention is focused on the bed. When I glance up at Barnes, that's what he's focused on too.

I shut the door, bringing him over to the bed. "We'll deal with this later. Right now, you need to take a breather. You look like you're about to pass out."

I let go of him and step back a little. He begins rubbing his hands together nodding his head to me. "I'll go take a shower. Are you sure you'll be okay here alone for a while?"

"I'll yell if I need you."

With another nod, he absentmindedly walks into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him. I place my backpack on the bed, getting the file out and spreading the papers across the blanket. I move the backpack down to the floor and I sit down, leaning against the pillows as I begin to read.

———————————————————————  
PROJECT SHIFTER  
Project began in August of 2000. Dr. Emma Becker was asked earlier that year by her superiors to create a serum that would allow whoever was injected to transform into any other human they wanted to, even being able to have the same DNA and finger prints

Dr. Becker spent years developing the serum, primarily in her personal lab in Zima, Russia. When she claimed the serum was completed, she picked 12 human subjects to be injected; each of them a different age ranging from eight to twenty. These subjects were taken by force, injected with the serum, and then placed back in their lives with no memory of the interaction with the organization.

The serum took time to work, ranging from a few hours to days to a few months. The first subject had their first transformation while yelling at a fellow student in anger. However, within six months of being injected, ten of the subjects were killed due to complications with the serum. They were all found with their bodies disfigured and broken, apparently not being able to shift into a different form.

Due to this, the project was then terminated the following year.  
———————————————————————

Flipping to the next document, and then the next after that, I try to find any details on the other two subjects. After some skimming, I find what I'm looking for.

———————————————————————  
SUBJECT'S 4 & 11  
Two of the subjects given the serum acted differently than the others; subject 11, a 19 year old girl from Paris, France, was able to shift into another human's form; taking on the appearance of her mother and her school teacher. However, once taken in by the organization, her body crumbled, and died like the rest of the previous subjects.

Subject 4 is the only living subject of PROJECT SHIFTER. A 12 year old girl from Hamburg, Germany. She was not able to change into other human forms, but into forms of other animals. The organization then took her into custody to train and study her abilities. Dr. Becker wanted to study subject 4's genetics to replicate it. But the organization terminated the project and would not allow it, therefore leaving subject 4 in the hands of the organization to be used in combat and stealth missions.  
———————————————————————

I sift through the other documents, trying to find something on my family, or the families of the other subjects. I see nothing, just more documents talking about the project and it's failures, what it costed HYDRA, and personal information on the subjects.

For a moment all I can think of are the other subjects besides me. The file said there were twelve of us, between the ages of eight and twenty. I was the only survivor. God, an eight year old died confused and broken, they died before their lives could even begin, they died because HYDRA took their lives from them. Just like they took my life from me.

I begin to feel my ears ring and my vision blur. I find myself standing up, pacing the length of the room. I always knew HYDRA ruined my life; they took my family and they took me, but now I know they did this to me in the first place. I always thought I was just unlucky and became stuck with a curse I never asked for and HYDRA took advantage of it. But no, they did this to me. They crafted me into their puppet. I had to watch as they moved my strings in any way they wanted.

Feeling hot tears begin streaming down my face, I clutch my hair tightly, feeling my chest tighten and a sob release from my throat. I lean my hands against he wall and bang my fist against it. I find myself banging the wall again, and again, and again, and again until I am full blown punching the wall, letting the impact drown out my sobs.

I hear the door to the bathroom open vaguely. Barnes is now at my side, his exhaustion seeming to have disappeared at the sight of me. He grabs hold of my arms, jerking me away from the wall. "Roberts? Roberts what's wrong?"

With another sob I crumble to the floor. Barnes drops down in front of me, holding onto my shoulders tightly. This is when I notice that he's only wearing a towel, with water dripping down his hair and onto his soaked skin. He must have heard me and gotten out of the shower. I look back at the wall to see a large hole and start to wonder why the cranky front desk lady didn't hear me.

Barnes doesn't seem to mind his current attire or lack there of. He mirrors what I did for him earlier; placing his hands on the sides of my face, his metal hand giving my chills from its cold touch.

"The files," I begin to say, pointing towards the bed. "They, they did this to me. I was one of twelve subjects, I was the only survivor. They did this, they made me like this! They took me from my home and injected me with their serum. They made me like this!" I blurt out, feeling the sobs overtake me again. Barnes's hands have left my face and are now rubbing my arms and shoulders, trying to comfort me with his touch as I did for him just an hour ago.

"Soroya, look at me." He says softly. I'm slightly taken aback from him using my first name, but I look at him all the same, trying to take deep breaths.

Barnes's eyes are unwavering and steady, making me feel more and more grounded as I stare into them. "What they did to you is...is beyond the torture capable of man. I know it hurts and I know you're angry, believe me I know. We will find every last person who did this to us, even if it takes the rest of our lives. We will make sure no one ever endures what we have."

Taking another deep breath, I nod my head, keeping my gaze on him. "Do you promise?"

"I promise you."

Barnes lifts a piece of my hair, placing it behind my ear, touching my face gently. He gets onto his feet, extending a hand out to help me up, which I take. Once I'm standing, I begin to feel more calm; my breathing more normal and my tears beginning to slow their pace. I look down from Barnes's face and remember that he's still only in a towel. Barnes looks down as well and begins to redden in his cheeks. I don't have to look to know mine are the same.

"I'm going to go finish showering, then I'll take the floor. You need a good night's sleep." He says, walking towards the bathroom.

"No, no you have had an exhausting day too," I reply, going over to the bed and gathering up the papers. "This is a big bed. We will both have lots of room...and I...I don't want to be alone tonight."

I think Barnes will stalk off without another word, or will look at me in disgust for even suggesting it. But Barnes nods his head once, his face softening. "I don't want to be alone either." And then walks back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.


	22. Karpov

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Roberts and I are silent as we drive the thirty minutes it takes to get to Karpov's house. Since the lab and his house are both in Zima, we left some of our supplies back at the motel from last night. We plan on spending one more night in an actual bed with running water.

Karpov didn't take the same precautions I would expect him to; we found his address by sneaking into the records room of the Zima city hall. He didn't change his name at all and lives just a little outside the city. It's a wonder why he's never gotten caught.

I have been focusing hard on the road since we got into the car and so has Roberts. After the emotional overload that was yesterday, we both slept in the one bed in the motel room. Both of us were so close to the edge of the bed if one of us moved we both would have fallen off. Part of me felt like it was wrong; that sharing a bed with someone is an intimate thing and we both crossed a line. But that was the best sleep I had had in seven decades...and I know it was because of her. Against everything my training has taught me; she makes me feel comfortable, maybe even safe. Being able to be close to someone else, someone who doesn't look at me like a monster, it's a feeling I can't even describe.

When I glance over at her, she looks rather tense; her ankles crossed like usual but her hands tightly clasped together and her eyes plastered to the window. I have a feeling she is going through the same thoughts I am.

I should probably say something. Throughout the month now that I have been out of HYDRA's clutches, my memories have been flooding back. Some of them tell me very clearly that I used to know how to talk to women, but clearly that skill is long gone.

"I...I saw myself in that chair," I begin to say, avoiding Robert's gaze, but out of the corner of my eye I see her look over to me. "When I touched the chair in the lab, I saw this soldier tried to help me escape. When he was able to get me free, I grabbed onto his throat and choked him to death. He knew what HYDRA was doing to me, he knew it, and he tried to give me my freedom. I killed him for it."

"Barnes...you can't blame yourself for that. You were under their control, that wasn't your fault."

Shaking my head, I finally look to her. "That's what I've been telling myself, but I was the one who did it. And last night, with us sleeping, I just...It was the first night in probably decades I didn't have a nightmare or a flashback. I know it was because of you, so I...I wanted to thank you...that's all."

Roberts stares at me for a moment before slowly nodding her head, turning her eyes back to the road. "I didn't have a nightmare either." She says quietly, leaning forward after a moment to twist the knob on the radio. Bing Crosby's 'Don't Fence Me In' begins to play.

Nodding my head silently to the music, I turn my attention back to the road, seeing a flash in my memory of me dancing with a tall woman to this song. She is very beautiful; with long brown hair and familiar steel blue eyes that seem to light up whenever she smiles. I slowly realize that in this memory I seem to be in a house, and rather young too, maybe sixteen or seventeen.

I think it's my mother. My mother. The mother I never got say goodbye to, the mother I didn't even remember until moments ago, the mother who cried herself to sleep every night thinking her son had died. The mother who loved me, because in that memory she clearly did. Someone loved me, how odd that feels to know that.

Feeling my chest tighten like I might have another break down, I try to tune the music out, forcing the face of my mother out of my head.

-

Setherton's house was very run down; like he had lived there and hadn't cleaned or renovated in ten years. Karpov however, has a beautiful house. Just like Setherton's it's away from other houses and is in the middle of a grassy field. His house is probably three stories, with red brick walls and cream painted panels on the windows. I notice there seem to be no lights turned on in the house, as well as locks on each window and a sign on the porch that says do not enter'.

"Do you smell him?" I ask Roberts.

She winds the window down, taking in a deep breath as a gust of wind blows past us. She sticks her head back into the car, nodding her head with her eyes closed. "I smell a strong sent of orange and vanilla...it's sickening. It's definitely a human scent. I don't sense anyone else though. It's just him."

"This isn't going to be like Setherton. I have a feeling Karpov is in much better shape to take us on."

She nods to me, starring at the house. "He was your boss, so how do we stop him?"

"Change into something that can move fast and be lethal. He may still have it in him but he's an older man. I have my guns and a knife in my pocket so I should be alright. Maybe you should give me your gun though."

She hands it over, beginning to unbutton her shirt. Reaching into the back seat of the car I grab onto her backpack and with my head turned, I feel her stuff her clothes inside. The car door opens and closes. A moment later I hear a low growl, I toss the backpack in the back and get out of the car as well, walking towards Roberts and seeing a Cheetah in her place. With a curt nod from me, we begin to walk towards the crimson red door.

"You go around the back, I may need some cover or perhaps a surprise attack if things get out of hand." I say quietly to her. Looking down I watch the cheetah nod her head before running around to the other side of the house.

Having my gun aimed and ready, I cautiously walk towards the door. I hear a loud bang, instinctively making me drop to the ground. I watch as bullets start flying towards me from inside the house. I crouch down under the banister railing, angry I hadn't even made it to the porch before I was shot at. Looking up briefly, I see that Karpov is shooting from the window. I begin shooting back, not feeling overly keen on my lack of cover behind this banisters I don't hear any yelps or signs that I hit him, but I get my answer when he busts through his own door and begins shooting at me again.

Still crouching I sprint to the other side of the house, using the wall for cover as I shoot back. He has definitely aged since I last saw him; his hair nearly completely grey and his body is not as muscular or broad as I remember. But that look of anger on his face, the focus, the arrogance, it hasn't changed at all in twenty years.

Trying to refocus my attention to more pressing matters, I try to quiet my breathing, steadying my hand and managing to hit him in the shoulder, making him stagger back a few inches. His face however looks even more pissed. Just as he's about to start shooting again, he falls completely flat on his back, shouting in horror when he sees that a cheetah has sunk her teeth in his arm. Dropping the gun, Karpov lets out a loud scream, desperately trying to free himself from the animal, but her grip is too tight.

Walking towards them both, I pick up Karpov's gun, starring down at the psychotic man. He stares up at me, probably realizing that this cheetah is in league with me and not some odd coincidence. He holds back his moans and screams, starring up at me with a look I think he means to be indifference but just comes off as anger. I look at Roberts, gesturing with my head to the house. With a low growl, she begins to drag Karpov's body across the grass. Any strength he had to resist his screams has gone away and the man screams bloody murder as step by step he's dragged up his porch and through his door.

I walk into the house last, picking up the fallen door off the ground and gently place it back in the doorway. Looking around at the house I see that the walls are the same red brick as the outside, with oak wood floors, and cream colored furniture to match the panels from outside. We are currently in the living room, which by itself is the size of Setherton's first floor. Adorning the walls are several paintings; all of which are landscapes of Russia. Through a crack in a doorway I see a kitchen just opposite from me. Just above the stove I see a Soviet flag pinned to the walls.

I look back down at Karpov, who is now holding onto his arm and groaning in pain. I would be lying if I said hearing him in pain didn't give me a cathartic pleasure. Karpov stares at me, looking me up and down, before letting out a scoff. "You are a shadow of your former self," He says, speaking in Russian. "Look at you, killing your own people. We taught you to be more obedient than that."

"You mean you programmed me to be more obedient than that," I reply, obliging him and speaking in Russian as well. "You and any other member of HYDRA are not my people. You are my enemy. And if there's one thing you taught me how to do perfectly; it's killing my enemies."

"Do it then. Spare me from your monologues of revenge and preaches of freedom and get it over with."

Shaking my head, I slowly approach the man, stopping when I'm standing directly above him. "Not yet. First, you're going to give me some answers. You know my programming passwords. I want you to tell me how to reverse them."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because my friend here is very hungry and I can make sure every last moment of your existence is as miserable and agonizing as possible." Karpov looks from me to Roberts, who growls loudly and bares her teeth at the man.

Looking back at me, his face pale from fright, he replies; "Dr. Zola created them to better control you and the other mutts. He programmed them into your brain by combining them with brainwiping chair. With them combined, you truly became ours. Even if I did now how to reverse the programming, I wouldn't." He says, his words coming our fragmented due to his pain.

Crouching down, I stare the man down, trying to analyze his tone and body language to find any hints he's lying, but I can tell he isn't. "That does pose a problem; that means your usefulness has run out."

A moment of silence forms between us. Just as I catch a hint of a shiny object in Karpov's hand, I feel a sharp pain in my leg. Jumping back, I let out a groan as I see a large knife sticking out of my upper thigh. I hear a roar come form Roberts mouth and she pounces on Karpov, placing her pawn on his chest, her open jaw mere inches from his face.

I lift myself up, feeling relieved to see that Roberts has her other paw on his other arm, giving him no chance to harm her. Getting myself onto my knees, I limp over towards them. Placing a hand on Roberts's back, I am able to say with a few grunts in English; "I-I have this...this...needs to be done by-by me."

Roberts turns her head to look at me, and in her eyes I can see her worry. Reluctantly, she hops off of Karpov. With another groan, I position my knee to rest on his uninjured arm. Bringing the knife from my own pocket, I bring it up to his throat. "Any...any last words?"

Karpov spits in my face and says; "The world may think HYDRA has gone, but it will never be snuffed out. No matter how many of us you kill, we will live on forever; cut off one head and two more shall take its place."

"Not if you stab it in the heart." I say with a slight grunt, bringing my knife away from his neck, and plunging it into his heart. I watch silently as Karpov sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes going blank, and blood beginning to pour from his mouth. Falling onto my side, I grunt as Karpov takes his last breath, before I begin feeling lightheaded, and the world goes dark.


	23. Julian Remington

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

Looking over at Barnes, I see his entire face straining, holding back his screams of pain. My eyes fall onto the knife still in his leg, and it makes me press on the accelerator faster.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I race towards the large sign saying; hospital, two miles ahead. There is no way I can check him in as a patient. All it will take is one person to recognize us and then we're done. I'll have to steal supplies and heal him myself. The question is; what do I need and how do I do it. Glancing over at the knife again, I try to figure this out. It doesn't look very deep, so stitches should be fine once I've cleaned the wound and stopped the bleeding. He could get an infection or a fever, so getting some antibiotics should be helpful too.

Pulling up to the back of the hospital, I stop the car, turning to Barnes. "I need you to stay here while I get supplies. I promise I'll be quick."

Barnes nods, a tear coming out of his eye. Shutting the door silently, I run up to the back door. Taking a hair pin from my hair, I begin to pick the lock. Hearing the door click open, I slip inside, finding myself at the end of a very long hallway. Moving quickly, I look towards all the signs, finally finding a supply room a few doors down. Thankfully this one isn't locked, so I burst through the door, finding racks filled with all manner of medical supplies.

Sifting through each shelf, I am able to find a needle and some thread, rubbing alcohol for cleaning the wound, bandages, and an entire shelf of antibiotics. They come in several casings and bottles, including in a syringe and needle. I go ahead and take a needle of antibiotics as well as a bottle of pills and head back outside, slipping out of the hospital before I'm noticed.

-

Pulling into a parking spot in front of the motel, I turn off the engine and burst out of the car. I make my way to the other side of the car, kneeling down I grab onto his arm, beginning to help him out when I realize something. "The front desk lady. She can't see you with the knife in your leg...I'll have to pull it out now."

Barnes stares at me for a moment before he nods to me. I offer him my hand to hold on to, which he accepts, bracing himself. Releasing a deep breath, I grab onto the handle of the knife and yank it out, hearing a loud groan escape from his lips as he squeezes my hand in a death grip. Pulling on his shoulders, I am able to get him out of the car. I shut the door with my foot and wrap his arm around my shoulder to help him walk.

As we walk into the motel lobby, I am grateful the lady doesn't bat an eye in our direction. Barnes's leg has seen better days and that'd be difficult to explain to her. Once we make it to our room, I shut the door, setting him down on the floor. I run back out to the car and grab the supplies from the hospital, trying to conceal them as much as possible as I run back inside. Once I get them back in our room, I run into the bathroom to get some towels; one to put under his leg and the other to put pressure on the wound.

"Have you...you done this before?" Barnes asks as I lift his leg up to put the towel underneath. Placing the second towel on the wound, I watch as Barnes muffles another scream.

"No I haven't, but I'm the best chance you have right now," I say, removing the towel and grabbing onto the rubbing alcohol. The once white towel has now turned crimson. The smell of blood fills my nostrils and makes my powers go nuts, urging me to shift. I ignore it. "So just...just listen to my voice okay? Focus on that."

Barnes nods, undoing the belt of his pants, bringing it up to his mouth to bite on. I begin to pour the alcohol onto the wound, watching him huff out moans of pain only muffled by the belt between his teeth. In order to distract him and quite frankly myself, I begin to talk; "I know you're trying to piece together your past. I know there are some missing parts in your time at HYDRA and I can help with that."

"When I was training you." Barnes mutters, moaning again as I press the towel on the wound.

"Yes, when you trained me. The thing is, Setherton was already training me in marksmanship. When doing practice shooting on dummies and targets, I was fine. But when they would bring in people for me to practice on, I would get so upset and angry, I would shift. My trainer, Julian Remington, was already working on controlling my emotions when it comes to shifting, but having to kill innocent people made it worse. Setherton didn't like that," I bring the antibiotic shot up to his thigh and squeeze the plunger, allowing the medication to set in. "As a way of motivation they had me shipped to Siberia along with Julian. I remember, I would hear other children kept by HYDRA talk late at night about you; The Winter Soldier, HYDRA's deadliest assassin and poster boy. Everyone feared you. You were the protagonist of all our nightmares. I was terrified to meet you. I remember throwing up that morning from terror before seeing you. I spent nearly a year being trained by you, and everyday you didn't get any less scary."

Barnes listens to me intently, keeping his eyes on me as I place the towel aside and begin to sew up the wound. "You taught me how to shoot from scratch, saying that Setherton's teaching was sloppy and ineffective. But you realized too that I couldn't shoot real people. You also worked out that my shifting was tied to my emotions. You then worked with Julian and me personally to make me able to control my emotions and urges to shift. You would provoke me in some way, I would get upset and feel this ache rise inside me, and then I would practice burying the ache and making myself calm again. But even after all that training, I still couldn't bring myself to kill,"

"I remember you calling me weak. You told me that a true and loyal soldier does what they're told without hesitation or question. You blamed Julian for not being strict enough with me, so they brought in another trainer from some lab. Her name was Erica Oxton. God she hated me. She thought I was too soft, so she made sure to he especially cruel to me. She also hated that I couldn't kill anyone. She regularly beat me when I wouldn't comply. Julian had slowly become my friend over the years as he taught me how to control my powers. He was just like me; his family was kidnapped and held hostage. They would be safe as long as he did what they told him to. He was really young, maybe twenty four, and was absolutely brilliant. He helped me more than anyone. One night, after a particularly harsh beating from Oxton, Julian came to my cell and tried to set me free. He said there was no time to waste, so he grabbed hold of my arm and told me i needed to run as fast as I could and never stop."

Feeling my throat begin to feel tight, I take a deep breath, trying to focus on sewing the wound up and avoiding Barnes's gaze. "While we were running, we passed by Oxton's body. I assumed he had killed her, along with a couple other guards. And just as we got to the exit, you and twenty other guards were there. They...they dragged me away, held me as I kicked and screamed. Karpov ordered you to kill Julian as a traitor. I watched as you broke his neck. I cried and screamed and tried to get away, but the guards just dragged me back to my cell. Not only had my only friend died, but his family no doubt had perished as well. All because he wanted to save me. They sent me back to Setherton after that. Setherton was more forceful when I returned. He would hang the lives of my family over me, as well as put a gun to my head in order to finally make me kill."

Tying off the thread, I cut it and set the needle aside, finally looking up at Barnes. He brings the belt out of his mouth, a look of pure agony in his eyes. "Why? Why agree to be my ally? Why protect me?"

Sitting back, I let out a sigh and wipe my bloody hands on the towel. "I hated you, lord knows I did. When HYDRA first fell I was doing a mission in Czech, and I swore to myself that I would find Setherton and you. At the safe house, I was too scared to do anything to you. But when I saw you in that abandoned base, I knew I couldn't do it. Something I remember from my time with you is that your eyes looked like black holes; devoid of life and all feeling. It's what used to scare me the most about you. But when I looked into your eyes again, I saw a confused and broken man. I heard the sincerity in your voice as you asked for my help. Ever since I was young, I've been far too trusting of people. I want to believe in everyone's best intentions. HYDRA worked hard to change me and morph me into the cold hearted assassin they wanted. But I made a vow to myself I wouldn't let them change me. So when I saw you wake from that nightmare, frantically looking around to reassure yourself you were safe, out of the horror you had just relived, I knew the demon I had met before wasn't there anymore," smiling softly to myself, I continue. "My mother always said that I should trust what my heart says about others and not my mind. So that's what I did."

Barnes looks down at his leg, contemplating something for a second before returning his attention back to me. "Even with my regenerative abilities I'll have to sit out for probably a week or two. Setherton mentioned that one of the guys who took you into HYDRA is in Vorkuta. You should go. I'll only slow you down and speed is a necessity for you right now. I wouldn't blame you for leaving me here, because after what you just told me, I would do the same thing." He smiles sadly to me, lifting himself up slightly to reposition his leg.

Tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear I hover over his thigh, beginning to bandage the wound. I feel Barnes's gaze on me as I do so. "If I were to leave you, I would have done it by now. You and me are in this together. I don't want you to feel guilt over Julian, because that wasn't you."

"That was me."

"No," I say looking up to meet his gaze. "No, that wasn't you. The man that killed my friend was the Winter Soldier, you...you're James Barnes; an old man who scowls a lot and hates 60's music."

Barnes lets out a soft chuckle despite his obvious guilt. I find myself doing the same, but this is cut short when I pull on the bandage around his thigh. It makes Barnes let out a groan of pain. I softly apologize before cutting the bandage, stepping back to admire my handy work. "Alright, now lets hope I cleaned it enough so you won't get an infection. You need to take antibiotics everyday for probably a week."

Barnes nods, shutting his eyes and wincing at the pain. Grabbing onto his arms again, I help him into the bed, making sure to keep his leg cushioned and comfortable. Bending back down to the floor I grab hold of the supplies and bloody towels, placing them over near our backpacks. Wiping my hands on my pants, I collapse onto the other side of the bed, feeling the exhaustion of today finally hit me. Turning my head to the side I look to Barnes, who is starring right back at me.

"Is this alright? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." I ask softly.

"I'd like you to stay." Is all he says, before his eyes flutter closed, his body relaxing into a deep sleep. Smiling slightly to myself, I turn over to my nightstand and turn the light off. Covering myself with a blanket, I allow the exhaustion to overtake me, drifting into a deep sleep.


	24. Truths From A Guilty Man

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

I kick the ball hard, watching as one of my friends miss it by a long shot. With an annoyed look he begins to run after it.

"You kick too hard!" He yells once he grabbed the ball.

"Or maybe you just suck at this game!" I yell back with a laugh. My friend kicks the ball back to me and I'm able to catch it easily with my foot. As I'm about to kick the ball again, I hear shouting.

"Come on, let me go! Please, no!"

Looking around the school playground I try to find the source of the screams, and after a moment I find it; a small boy across the playground. He is very short, with a very lanky figure and a head of blonde hair. Two large boys are harassing him; one is holding him back while the other is going through the boy's pockets and taking his lunch money.

Abandoning the ball under my foot, I run over to the two boys, shoving the one holding the smaller boy's money. He falls to the ground, touching his elbow which now has a scratch on it.

"What's your problem, Barnes?" He yells.

"My problem is that you're being a jerk," I say, grabbing onto the second boy's arms and pulling them away from the small blonde boy.

The boy on the ground gets himself up, and with a look to his friend, they both walk away. I stare at the blonde boy, watching him straighten his clothes and his hair.

"Thanks for that." He says, bending down to pick his money off the ground. I bend down as well and help him.

"I'm sorry they did that to you."

The boy shakes his head, putting the money back in his pockets. "It's alright, I'm used to it."

Both of us stand back up and the boy starts to walk away, but I stop him by placing my hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"Just to go sit over there. I don't have any friends to play with."

Squeezing the boy's shoulder, I smile at him. "Well you do now," I bring my other arm out and hold it in front of him. "I'm James Barnes, but my friends call me 'Bucky'."

"Why 'Bucky'?"

"It's a nickname from Buchanan, which is my middle name."

The boy smiles at me, shaking my hand. "My name is Steve. Steve Rogers."

-

Waking up with a jolt, I let my eyes wander around to take in my surroundings. My eyes finally land on Roberts, who is giving me an alarmed look. Usually I feel frightened after having a flashback, but this one has left me slightly confused. The pilot comes over the speaker on the plane and mentions we are about to land, so I quickly fish out my notebook and begin writing down the memory I just had.

"You okay?" She asks, squeezing my arm. I nod my head, looking around to the people sitting close to us to see if they're paying attention.

"No honey, just another weird dream." I say softly.

Roberts nods in understanding, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Was it another nightmare?"

"No actually, it was a dream about two boys becoming friends on the playground in kindergarten."

"Was one of the boys you?"

Squeezing her arm, I nod. "Yeah, yeah it was. And the other was Steve."

Roberts lifts her head up, giving me a confused look. Making an executive decision in my mind, I turn my body towards her, being careful of my leg, and lean in close to her ear.

"Remember when I said that my...special medication was based off of a very specific man?"

She nods her head.

"I knew him. When our organization fell through, I met him face to face. When he saw me he called me by my real name and said things about me and to me that brought a rush of memories back. According to him, to a museum plaque, and to some of my resurfaced memories; we are best friends."

"What do you mean museum plaque?"

"You know I fought in the war. Well one day while fighting our organization, I fell off a train and was presumed dead. In a museum there's an entire section dedicated to me, saying I died for my country and was best friends with Steve since childhood."

Roberts sits up more, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She drops her voice to a whisper once she replies. "That's a lot to take in. So what you're telling me is that you're best friends with one of the Avengers and you are an American war hero?"

"That is what I'm telling you."

Roberts nods her head for several moments, slowly sinking in her chair and leaning her head back on my shoulder. "I'm glad you told me. Honesty is the foundation for every good marriage." She says, her voice returning to normal volume.

Letting out a chuckle, I lean my head against hers. My eyes fall to the woman sitting across from us, who is smiling at the two of us widely.

"Just married?" She asks. With her accent I would say she's from eastern Russia.

I nod to her. "Yes, just. We're on our honeymoon."

"Well congratulations, I hope you kids have a great trip."

"Oh we will. Who could hate meeting up with old friends? Some of them we haven't seen in years and we're just dying to see them again." Roberts replies to the woman. I begin to lightly chuckle, it isn't long until Roberts joins in herself. The woman, thinking nothing of it, turns her attention back to her magazine. It feels good to laugh, and Roberts makes it easier to do so.

-

Soroya

Setherton had told me one of the men who kidnapped me, agent Christianson, lives in an apartment complex in Vorkuta. Within the files I retrieved from the lab we visited, I found out he worked directly for Emma Becker; the head of PROJECT SHIFTER. In this file it gave his last known address,. I'm shocked that it hasn't changed at all in 14 years. The file said he retired shortly after PROJECT SHIFTER was terminated. Just like Setherton had said.

Walking up the steps of the apartment complex, I press the button on the wall next to the name Christianson. The button buzzes, and out of the speaker comes a low and melancholic Russian voice. "Who is it?"

"Delivery for a Mr. Christianson?" I say, making my voice sound Russian as well.

Another buzzing sound occurs and the front door swings open. Without further delay I make my way up the stairs of the building. Christianson lives on the 8th floor, in apartment H10, the last apartment on the right. Reaching his door, I knock firmly, waiting patiently as the footsteps grow closer to me. The door slowly opens, and at the first sight of Christianson's face, I point my gun at him.

Christianson freezes, his eyes growing wide. I place my finger against my lip, pointing towards the chair a few feet from him. Christianson nods in understanding, slowly walking to his leather cushioned chair as I shut the door. Once I twist the lock, Christianson frantically begins to speak; "You're with them aren't you? God I knew this would happen. I retired, they should have told you I'm retired I don't do that stuff anymore. Please don't kill me, please I beg you."

"Relax," I say, placing my hands up, seeing the genuine fright in this man's face. I place my gun back in my belt, placing my hands back up in the air. "I don't work for HYDRA, though I used to before it fell. I'm not here to kill you. I only want to talk."

"Talk about what?"

"Talk about what you know about me, about what you and Emma Becker did to me."

Christianson's eyes go from scared to guilt ridden within moments. I watch in surprise as the man begins to sob. Placing his face in his hands, the man begins to speak to me again, this time much slower. "You're...you're that girl. The girl who could shift into animals. Oh god, I'm...I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, it's all my fault. I never should have done that, I never should have listened to them."

Looking around his apartment, I notice the several bottles and cans of vodka, whisky, and different types of beer. His scent is with the alcohol he consumed, it almost makes me feel intoxicated just by being near him. Clothes, trash, and papers are littered all over the floor. When I bend down to pick one of the papers up, I realize they're unfinished letters written to God. It details his sins and how he begs for forgiveness, how he wants to be punished. Looking back at the man, I feel pity. Every other HYDRA agent I've seen has reveled in the things they've done to me, in the pain they've inflicted. But in this man's eyes all I see is pain, guilt, and even self hatred.

I have every right to hate this man. Part of me wants to. I have every right to kill him like I did Setherton, but killing him out of revenge won't change what happened to me. And in doing so I'd become just like the rest. As I stare at this broken shell of a man before me, I can't bring myself to hate him. All I can hope for the reminding members of HYDRA is for them to see the error of their ways and seek forgiveness and redemption. This man is proof that hope isn't impossible.

I still believe that, despite the things I've seen people do to others, that there's good in everyone. I believe this man truly has seen the error of his ways. So I walk over to him and bend down to be at his level. "What's your first name?"

The man glances up at me, wiping his eyes. "Alexei."

I nod my head, holding the paper up. "I can't speak for God, but if you want forgiveness, I can offer that to you. I forgive you for taking me to HYDRA as a child."

Another tear spills down his cheek and a small sliver of levity forms in his eyes. "You can?"

"Yes, but in order to fully forgive you, I need you to help me. I'm trying to find my family, they were taken by HYDRA when I was and now I'm trying to find them. I'm also trying to find answers to why I have these powers. Now I know Emma Becker gave me my abilities, but I have no clue where she is, or if there's anymore information I need about my powers. So please, Alexei, can you give me any of these answers?"

Alexei clears his throat, and with a low and thick voice, replies; "I worked for Becker for many years. I was in charge of monitoring her test subjects to see their progress with her serum. When you were the only survivor, HYDRA canceled the project, saying that Becker had failed too many times. She was told to destroy all evidence of the project, including her lab, but she refused. Some documents were burned or redacted, but the important documents she stole and took with her when she relocated. I think some things have been left behind in the lab."

"There were, I visited there. That's how I learned of Becker in the first place. So, where was she relocated to?"

"HYDRA didn't relocate her, she relocated herself. She moved to Margate, England, where she continued her research and tried to perfect the serum without HYDRA's help. I left shortly after her relocation...because I knew what horrors she was doing and I couldn't bare to watch more innocent people die in such a brutal way."

"Do you know anything about my family?"

Alexei shakes his head. "No, no but I pray they are alright. I pray no more lives are lost to those demons."

Gently placing my hand on top of Alexei's, he glances up at me in surprise. "Thank you. This information means a lot to me."

He nods a few times, watching me as I stand and head towards the door. As I turn the lock, Alexei speaks again, his voice barely above a murmur; "Do you think even the devil can make peace? That even after all he's done, that it isn't too late for him to be redeemed."

Turning back to him, I give the man a genuine smile; a small gift, but a powerful one. "You aren't the devil. You are a person who made some terrible decisions. The devil wouldn't feel remorse or want forgiveness. That is exactly why it isn't too late for you."

Alexei nods his head, a couple more tears falling down his face. "Good luck." He says quickly, before covering his face again with his hands.

Shutting the door behind me, I make my way towards the stairs, still feeling taken aback from that interaction. Alexei Christianson had not only given me vital information, but he also proved to me that I was right; there is good in this world and maybe that good will triumph in the end. For Alexei's sake, for mine, for Barnes's, I hope that it will.


	25. Moscow

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"So Becker is in England?" I ask, trying to sit up on the bed but failing. Roberts comes around and grabs onto my arm, lifting me up and placing a pillow behind my back.

"Yeah she is," She replies, sitting at the edge of the bed next to my feet. "But I'm not ready to go there just yet. We're not even close and the likelihood of my family being in England is slim. I want to keep looking at bases here in Russia."

"Are you sure?"

Roberts nods, smiling at me. "Besides, anymore information on you won't be in England and that's a priority too."

Feeling genuinely appreciative of her concern for me, I smile at her too. "Well if you're certain, then the next base on our list is in Moscow. Maybe going there will give us more answers," I say, my eyes drifting down to my thigh. "I wish you would have let me go with you today."

Roberts shakes her head, placing her hand gently on my leg. "You need to heal. Besides, Christianson was harmless. I was perfectly fine."

"But we didn't know that going in. You could've needed backup and I wasn't there—"

"Hey," She interrupts me, smiling softly. "No offense, old man, but I've had to rely on only myself for the better part of two decades. I can get by on my own."

"But you don't have to now."

There is a glimmer of something in her eyes that I can't quite place, but whatever just passed through her mind compelled her to lift her hand off my leg. Sitting up she moves closer to me, pulling the blanket back to inspect my wound. I find myself feeling quite numb as her hair brushes against my face. Her hair smells like vanilla.

"I think it's time I pull the stitches out. You were right; you heal abnormally fast. Did you take the antibiotics today?"

Internally scolding myself for still thinking about how nice she smells, I nod my head. "Yeah I only have tomorrow left and then the pills are out."

"I don't have anymore pain killers, so I don't know if this will hurt or not." She says, leaning over to her bag to fish out a pair of tweezers and scissors.

I nod my head, watching as she tugs at the first loops and begins to cut it off. "So," Roberts begins to say. "What you said on the plane about you and Captain America..."

"Yes?"

"You said you were face to face with him when HYDRA fell and he made you remember who you are. You've never told me what happened or where you were when HYDRA was destroyed."

I think for a moment how to respond to this, knowing that mentioning what happened all those months ago will bring waves of shame and confusion. "I was apart of PROJECT INSIGHT."

Roberts freezes, her eyes darting up to me. Not every HYDRA agent was apart of the project, but everyone knew about it. It was the biggest mission HYDRA would ever conduct. Tearing my eyes away from her, I continue; "On the day the targets would be chosen and executed, Rogers and a couple of his teammates came to take everything down. I was in charge of guarding one of the helicarriers. I tried to stop him from destroying Zola's algorithm; the system used to pick the targets that would threaten HYDRA. He succeeded though, and as the three helicarriers began to crash and burn, Rogers didn't leave. He let me beat him, let me tear him apart. All he did was tell me he wouldn't fight me; that I had known him all my life, that my name was James Buchanan Barnes. I remember feeling so scared, so confused, because part of me thought he was just trying to save himself and get in my head, but a deeper part of me knew he was right. But then as I was about to kill him, he told me to finish my mission, because he was with me until the end of the line. I couldn't do it after that, because I got a flash of me saying the exact same thing to him when we were young. He fell out of the carrier after that. Without another thought I dove in after him, my mind racing thinking; his name is Steve, his name is Steve and I have to save him. I dragged him from the water, made sure he was alright, and I ran for it. I knew the remnants of HYDRA would be after me or the US government or SHIELD, so I disappeared. Before I came to Mongolia I went to the Smithsonian, where there's a whole room talking about Captain America. There within that room, is a large memorial sign detailing my life and how I was an American hero who died for my country during WWII. I knew then that HYDRA had taken my life and had fed me lies. I knew I needed to find answers."

Roberts pulls the last of the stitches out, and with the snip of the scissors, my wound looks better than ever. She looks up at me and I again feel an odd numbing sensation at her being so close. "Rogers is probably after you too."

"I know he is...but I can't face him after what I've done. I remember enough to know what he told me was true. I owe it to him and to me to remember everything about our history."

With another smile, Roberts stands up and extends her hand out to me. "Then lets go to Moscow and uncover more about your past. There's a flight heading out of the airport nearby in an hour."

Grabbing onto her hand, I nod my head. "Let's go."

-

The base in Moscow is unlike any of the others we have been to. The first base we ever visited, the one where I met Roberts, looked abandoned and run down. It was like it had been empty for maybe fifteen years. This base however, looks like a museum. It's a tomb to house the horrors and secrets throughout HYDRA's history.

"Sense anyone?" I ask as we both open up the rusted metal door.

We step inside and from the light of the setting sun we can see a mist of dust throughout the air. On the floor there is such a thick layer of dust it leaves a foot print as I take a step inside.

Roberts takes in a deep breath and immediately coughs. I step forward and gently pat her back as she gets the dust out of her lungs. Having heightened senses in a place like this must be difficult. After a moment she lays her hand on my arm, telling me she's okay. "I don't smell anyone and I don't hear any footsteps. I mean I always say be prepared for anything, but I don't think anyone has stepped foot in this base in fifty years."

"Maybe that's a good thing." I say, aiming my gun to the floor and beginning to walk forward. As we get further from the door I notice how dark it becomes. I look around to try and find a light switch or a lantern to light, but I find nothing. It gets to the point where I can no longer see Roberts, but I don't think that's due to the light. I hear a flapping noise and the next thing I know an owl flies onto my shoulder.

Bending down, I feel around on the ground to find her clothes. When I find them i stuff them into my backpack, glancing up at the owl. "Hoot once for right, twice for left. Or if you find a light switch that will be helpful as well."

With a flap of her wings, I take that as an agreement. Keeping my gun down low and a hand out to grab the wall, I begin to walk forward. A few minutes go by and Roberts hoots twice, so I make my way left. Our system seems to be working until I walk right into a wall. Cursing lowly, I send a glare to the owl, hearing her hoot several times. I think this is her laughing at me. "Very funny. Just try and find a door or staircase. We need to find where they keep their files. Given how old this place is I bet it's all in one place."

Roberts hoots once, so I continue on my walk through the dark halls, turning right at her instructions. With my hand on the wall, I feel the handle of a door, and with a little force I push it open. "Hoot once if we should go in and twice if it's not worth our time."

Roberts hoots twice, so with a sigh I shut the door. Slowly we make our way down the hall, opening each door and having no luck at finding anything useful. We make it to an old elevator, which once we are able to pry the door open, realize it doesn't work. Looking to Roberts I ask; "Can you turn into something that can jump start this thing?"

Roberts nips at my ear, so I take that as a no. A few minutes later we find a staircase leading down, with a groan I mumble to Roberts; "Hoot to tell me to stop."

Suprisingly I am able to make it down without a scratch. Once I make it to the last step, Roberts flies off of my shoulder. Moments later I hear a loud hoot, so I follow the sound until I am met with another wall. This wall has a light switch on it. It barely lights the large room, but is enough for me to be able to walk without a guide. I drop my backpack on the ground so Roberts can change. I see her fly over to it and I turn my back to her to give her some privacy.

Beginning to walk around, my attention is taken by a large mat in the middle of the room. Like everything in the base it's covered in dust, but despite this, it looks extremely familiar. Something tells me to look up, so with dread rising in me I slowly lift my head, finding a cage the size of the mat. Feeling anxiety begin to rise in me, I try to focus on something else. There's a table next to the mat where an assortment of different knives and sparring sticks are. This only makes my anxiety increase more.

Feeling a prickling at the back of my neck, I turn around and look to the opposite side of the mat, where to my horror I see a large chair meta chair with a long metal arm. I don't know if this chair was used on me or if the one in Zima was. There are probably several of these chairs around the world. Knowing HYDRA, I wasn't the only person they tortured in those chairs. But this place looks so familiar, I have a gut feeling I was here at some point. It makes me feel nauseous the more I look at the chair.

"Barnes, you should come take a look at this." Roberts says from behind me. She's standing in front of an office looking area in the corner farthest from the door. There is a mahogany desk and filing cabinets stretching five feet against the wall on either side of it. I think this office area used to be another room because there's pieces of wall sticking out next to the filing cabinets.

Roberts is pointing at several papers and notebooks scattered on the desk. There's so many of them I think she retrieved some from the cabinets. Once I begin to skim some of the pages, I realize they are notes on my training. Page after page of my eating habits, my sleeping patterns, my progress with marksmanship and hand to hand combat. I was horrified when we found documentation like this or Roberts. This however, is nothing like I've ever experienced before. I feel like I've been split open and all of HYDRA got to witness me at my most vulnerable state.

Roberts realizes this, so slowly I feel her hand slip into mine. Flinching at her touch I look over at her, coming back into myself and trying to take deep breaths. I don't have to say anything for Roberts to understand. She simply begins to gather up the notebooks and papers, saying to me; "We'll find someplace safe to read these. Let's get out of here."

With a sigh of relief I nod, gathering up some of the documents as well. As we begin to make our way out of the room, I glance up at the cage. I get a flash of being repetitively beaten against the mat by an unknown man, my blood spilling from my mouth and my throat too raw to scream. I feel another wave of nausea come over me, so I try to keep my eyes on the ground, trying to kick this horrible place out of my mind.


	26. The Train

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

———————————————————————  
October 21st, 1948

Barnes has made little progress today. Dr. Zola attempted again to break him using beating methods as well as verbal reconstructioning. This didn't break his spirits, but this is unsurprising given he hasn't broken in four years.  
His eating habit was slightly different today, but since he had a harsh beating today that is natural. He was left rather bruised and threw up his breakfast, because that he barely ate his lunch. Dinner however he did eat, but left some of his portion of potatoes untouched. Sleeping patterns were the same; 7 hours of sleep. He didn't pray last night like usual, instead he hummed to himself, a song I did not recognize.  
———————————————————————

———————————————————————  
March 24th, 1950  
Zola created a machine to wipe his brain and conform him to our ways. Zola said it might take several days to fully reset. Hopefully the machine doesn't break his brain, but it's a risk we have to take.  
———————————————————————

Skimming through the papers I see that each sentence is more of the same; my eating habits, my sleeping patterns, and descriptions of the brutal beatings I was given. I place the small stack of papers aside and go for one of the folders.

———————————————————————  
June 8th, 1952

Barnes finally managed to master the knife. He has worked everyday on this skill for the last year and has finally been able to beat his instructor. Now that he has done so I have informed Zola and he will evaluate him and begin to score his timing and efficiency in fighting. Zola said to shock him if he underperforms. He said the machine would undue progress that has been made, and a new staff that produces electricity will be efficient in getting the job done. We tested them on him today, and they work very well."  
———————————————————————

———————————————————————  
May 13th, 1953  
Barnes has had his seventeenth mind resetting and cleansing session. He has finally not been able to give an answer on his place of birth. Getting him to forget this was just as hard as wiping his family member's names away. Since he has now forgotten Brooklyn, he has been much swifter in his hand to hand combat; beating his old record of 2 minutes and 45 seconds to take down his instructor.  
———————————————————————

———————————————————————  
November 5th, 1953  
We finally brought in a test subject for a final evaluation. Barnes has forgotten his United States Army status and has become more and more of a blank page. So much so he was able to successfully stab and shoot a rogue agent that had tried to escape the night before. It took less than a minute before he was dead. Zola agrees that this means soon the world will know and fear the new face of HYDRA.  
———————————————————————

Placing the folder down, I begin to rub my metal hand. I try to keep my breathing normal but it's a difficult task. In order to distract myself, I fished through my backpack to find my notebook. I write down the following sentence;  
'I was experimented on by HYDRA in 1943. I fell off a train in 1944, was taken by HYDRA, and given a metal arm. I was held captive and tortured in the Moscow HYDRA base for five years before my mind was wiped. I was then trained and tortured for several years, routinely getting wiped again and again. Sometime after being trained I was put into ice and not awoken until needed for missions. This would continue until HYDRA's fall, along with wipings after ever defrosting. At some point I was taken to the base in Siberia, but the exact date is unclear to me.'

"I know where we're going next." Roberts says, handing me a piece of paper. She has been reading through all these documents and folders with me, but I specifically told her not to tell of show me the day to day tellings of my torture and training. I was reading enough of that on my own. I look down at the paper she gave me, agreeing with her once I read it that this will be our next destination.

———————————————————————  
September 26th, 1944  
Subject 107, otherwise known as James Barnes, has been taken in to the base today after having previously been stationed in the Krems base for several weeks undergoing surgery. He had a major accident, one that lost him his arm, and after the doctors and scientists at Krems cleared him, he has been sent here for reconditioning.  
———————————————————————

I look back up at Roberts, already getting to my feet. "I wonder why I was taken to Krems after falling off the train," I begin saying out loud. "And why would they send me to Moscow after that."

"Well remember HYDRA grew under S.H.I.E.L.D, so all the bases had to be stretched out and under the radar," she says, hesitating and giving me a confused look. "You know you've never told me how you fell of the train."

I nod my head, beginning to gather up the papers. "I promise I will tell you that story later. Right now we need to get a flight to Krems. Do we have enough money?"

"For two plane tickets to Krems? No I think we need to find another HYDRA safe house. I think I mapped one out here in Moscow," she says, trailing off as she digs through her backpack to grab the map. Opening it up she points to Moscow with a smirk. "Yeah there's one about thirty minutes from here."

"Alright, but no more taxi's. I'm driving us there. If I have to have anymore small talk with random drivers I'm going to loose it."

Roberts shrugs, stuffing the map back in her bag. "Whatever makes you comfortable, old man."

-

Walking out of the airport in Krems, Austria, Roberts and I walk towards the parking lot, hand in hand.

"The base is only forty five minutes from here, so we should be able to search it and get whatever information we need before dark," She stops walking when we pass by a rather large red car. She lets go of my hand and points to the vehicle. "I want to steal this one."

"You want to drive?" I ask.

She nods enthusiastically. "I wanted one of these cars as a child. I can't believe I'll actually be able to drive one now."

Smirking at her, I am surprised to find this person left their car unlocked. Opening the door and sitting down in the passengers seat, I watch as Roberts begins to hotwire the car. When the engine roars to life, a satisfied smile covers Roberts face. Turning on the radio, Roberts flips it to the 'Old Style Music Channel', where an instrumental Jazz song comes through the speakers.

"'In The Mood' by Glenn Miller, now this is classic thirties," Roberts says to herself, backing out of the parking lot. Roberts glances at me, and smiles. "Did you listen to Glenn Miller?"

"My first date was to a dance club, where she and I slow danced to Moonlight Serenade. Glenn Miller was a favorite of mine. Everyone loved him back then." I say, feeling a weird sensation in my chest at the thought of that day. I suddenly realize I remember my first date at all. I didn't have a flash of it or a dream...I just recalled it naturally. I feel a overwhelming sense of happiness at having that memory back.

"What was her name?"

"Dorothy. I don't know how I met her, but she was very pretty. She's got to be like one hundred years old by now."

"So are you, Barnes." Roberts mutters with a smirk. I glare at her, but this only makes her smirk grow. Her expression grows more serious however, as she begins to drive down a long stretch of barren road. "What happened with you falling off a train?"

Looking down at my metal arm, I feel perhaps for the first time, how much it truly weighs down on the rest of my body. "I don't remember entirely. I remember hearing Steve's voice screaming for me and I...I vividly remember the feeling of falling. I don't remember hitting the ground or my arm...but I remember seeing two HYDRA agents dragging me away, saying that they had orders to take me in."

"And they took you into Krems." She says, not as a question but like she's piecing together the same puzzle I'm trying to solve.

"Apparently. Hopefully we'll get that answer very shortly."

-

This base isn't a base at all; it's an abandoned bakery. Or at least, that's what it looks like on the outside. Roberts and I together kick at the door, watching it swing open with a loud creek. There are other broken or nearly demolished buildings around, it makes this one look fully functioning in comparison. To passerby's this would look like poor location for your business, but to anyone with the right training, it's a sign that there are secrets being held here instead of frosting.

Walking inside I see several booths and tables scattered around the dusty checkered floor. The yellow and pink stripped wallpaper is covered in a thick layer of dust and is peeling in various areas. There's a counter with a display of fake pastries, an empty cash register, and even a menu board on the wall. I have to give HYDRA credit for their efficiency.

I walk around the counter and press the small black button beside the cash register. I see a door open in the wall next to the bathrooms. The door reveals an elevator, which Roberts and I quickly make our way into. Once we both step inside, the door closes itself and sinks down to the next level. Looking at the buttons on the wall, I see that this second level is all that's left of the secret base.

After a few moments, the elevator doors open with a loud grunt. The room we walk into is something that feels extremely familiar. On the right side of the room are operating tables, with standard tools you would find a regular hospital. There are seven tables and enough tools to supply three hospitals. The left of the room is where I feel the goosebumps go down my body and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A large metal operating table lies in the center of the room. A long counter lines the wall to the tables left, where charts and pictures line it's dusty surface. I look closely at one of the tables to see that there's straps where someone's arms and legs would rest.

I get another flash, finding myself sitting down on the ground, where through my eyes now I see unfamiliar faces starring down at me. Everything seems very blurred, but as a small man with round glasses comes into view, everything suddenly becomes very clear. Zola smiles down at me, particularly looking at my new metal arm. I look down at the new limb and feel terror rise.

A scientist tries to check my vitals, but I find myself grabbing their neck and pushing them back. I can't really comprehend what's going on. All I know is the extreme fear I feel and pain my new arm is causing me. Zola only smiles at me, saying with a sickly amused voice; "Sergeant Barnes, you will be the new face of HYDRA."

"Barnes!" Roberts says, kneeling down in front of me, holding onto both of my shoulders tightly.

I find myself sitting on the ground now, grabbing onto her arms and holding them tightly. Holding onto her makes me feel like I'm anchoring myself in reality. "I'm fine, I'm fine I just...I got another flash. I was definitely here. This is where I was healed after the accident, where I got my arm."

"Yeah, no kidding, look at the pictures." She says, pointing to the counter. Helping me onto my feet, Roberts leads me over to sketches, or more like plans for my arm; detailing their structure and design and how they could connect it to work like a god given limb. The plans say this arm will have three times the strength of an average man. It says it was made to be near indestructible.

Setting the plans back down, I lean against the operating table, trying my best not to hyperventilate. Roberts walks over next to me, leaning against the table as well. "Do we need to leave?"

"I have all the information I need," I say, closing my eyes for a few moments, before turning my head and looking at her. "But there's information you need. And that information is in England."

"I thought we said—"

"Yes, but now we're in Austria, which is much closer to England. Besides, finding Becker is how you will learn about your own past. That may be the very place we need to go to find your family."

"I just hate the idea of spending time in England while they most likely are starving in some cell somewhere in Russia."

"But you don't know for sure they're in Russia at all. Wouldn't you rather be certain?"

Roberts nods her head. "You're right, I would rather be certain," pushing herself off the table, she grabs onto the plans for my metal arm, turning back to me. "Leave first thing tomorrow?"

"Alright, just let me drive tomorrow. I want control over the radio." I say with a playful smirk.

"Whatever you want, old man. Whatever you want."


	27. The Cupboard Under The Stairs

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

I bring my gum up and aim, beginning to shoot the target across the room. The red painted board now has five large holes in it, all in the middle of the target range.

"Again." A low, stiff voice says to me in Russian.

I turn to the target on my left, only getting one bullet outside of the middle this time. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as he comes around towards me, his blue eyes locked onto mine. "Your feet are too close." He says matter of factly. Using his own foot he pushes my feet apart, and then steps aside, allowing me to aim at the last target. I get the bullets through the middle every time.

"Now," He says, gesturing with his hand to someone I can't see. "For your next target."

Two guards drag in a young man. He looks about twenty, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes filled with complete terror. The guards drop him at my feet, but instead of looking at me, he looks to the soldier next to me. The man begins to cry, not even bothering to scramble away because he knows it won't do him any good.

"Please...please please I beg you!" He sobs in Russian, clearly from the southeast. "I have done no wrong, I have broken no laws! Whatever you think I did I didn't! I'm innocent!"

The word innocent rings around my head like a bell, but I feel the Winter Soldier's gaze piercing me as I stand here starring at the man. Feeling tears begin to prickle in my eyes I lift my gun up. As I do so the man's eyes finally fall onto me.

He holds his hands up in surrender, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I have a wife! Please I have a wife, we just...just got married. I can't leave her, I can't leave her, please! Please I want my wife."

Tears begin to stream down my own face. I force my eyes to look away from his. I aim my gun at his head, trying to bring myself to pull on the trigger, but my body feels frozen in place.

"Do it." The Winter Soldier says loudly, making both me and the man jump.

Along with the tears I feel anger well in me; anger on behalf of the man in front of me and myself. He would never see his wife again because of them and I neither would I. We were both prisoners.

Apart of my brain tells me if I don't shoot them, they could kill my family. Images of Alex fly into my brain, of Mama, and Papa. The thought of them being gone fills my brain. It makes me feel like the air has been sucked from my lungs. But I know, all three of them would gladly die if it meant saving an innocent. I've already been made a prisoner by HYDRA. I will not be made a murderer.

I lower the gun and erupt into sobs like the man in front of me. With an annoyed expression, The Winter Soldier brings his gun out and shoots the man three times in the chest. I stare down in horror at his frightened eyes and gaping mouth. I watch as his chest rises and falls rapidly once, then twice, then not at all. I look at those bright green eyes and they hold no life in them. They just hold the fear this man had in his last moments on earth.

Feeling an overwhelming anger rise in me, I feel my body prepare itself to shift, but the Winter Soldier grabs hold of my neck, lifting me up to meet his eye level. "You failed today," He says, bringing my face closer to his. "You're weak, weak enough to let your emotions take hold of you."

Feeling more tears stream down my face I feel a strong urge to look away from him, but I force myself to stare him down. Those blue eyes look annoyed and frustrated, even more so as he finally sets me down, letting me fall with a loud thud to the ground.

"Maybe some time in your cell will allow you to do your duty to HYDRA." He says, gesturing to the guards near the door. They drag my body away and I don't take my eyes off of him for a second. I see a flicker of something in his gaze that I can't quite place, but before I can think about it further, the door shuts, and I'm left in familiar darkness of my cell.

-

My eyes fly open and I reach out for something to grab onto; something to tell me I'm not there, that I'm somewhere, anywhere else. I feel a hand grab onto mine, and when I look over, I see Barnes's metal hand holding mine. Still feeling as if I'm trapped in my dream, I yank my hand from his, grabbing onto the sides of my face.

I begin to count each breath, trying to focus my attention on my hands and the pressure I feel against my temples. It isn't real, I tell myself, it isn't real. It was real, but it isn't now. I'm not there. I'm here. I'm right here.

This begins to calm me down. As my heartbeat slows down and my breathing returns to normal, I let go of my temples, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I then feel a rush of guilt, especially as I turn to Barnes. Starring at the road he looks very confused, but there's underlying sorrow in his gaze that I know I put there.

"Barnes I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"I understand. You had a dream about me, didn't you?" He asks, not angry or upset, just matter of factly.

I nod my head. "It was one of the days you were training me. I had to kill this young man and couldn't, so you shot him and sent me to my cell...to think about how... how I'd failed."

"I don't know why you didn't just shoot me when you saw me in the safe house." He says, his voice filled with guilt.

Knowing this answer will hurt him, I close my eyes as I say; "Because I knew I didn't have a chance. The second I tried anything, you would have killed me. You're far too powerful and I knew that. I was too afraid to even remember I had plans to kill you."

"I deserve it after all the things I did to you. I still don't understand why you stick around with me," He says, pain now flooding his gaze. "How you comfort me, laugh with me, or even look me in the eyes."

Thinking of the time I wanted him dead makes me feel even deeper shame. After 14 years of being in HYDRA I think my heart and spirit were finally starting to be broken in by HYDRA. The fact I even considered revenge...I am glad HYDRA fell. I fear what I would have become if it hadn't.

I am beyond thankful I didn't kill him. More thankful than I think I should express. Not knowing what to say, I take a moment to consider my next words. Though I hesitate for a moment, I manage to say: "James, look at me."

Surprise goes through Barnes at me using his first name, but he looks at me nonetheless. "The things you did were not you," I tell him. "You have to stop blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

"I still did all those things, even if I wasn't in control. I don't think I can ever forgive myself, especially for what I did to you."

I feel heat grow on my cheeks, but I ignore it. "You have to learn to forgive yourself. But for me, theres nothing to forgive."

A small smile spreads on his face, but this smile is wiped away as we pull up to beautiful house right beside the water. Barnes and I share a confused look. I pull out the map, shocked to find that this is the correct location of Becker's house.

Barnes nods his head and together we get out of the car, our backpacks slung over our shoulders to conceal our weapons. Becker's house is much more remote than I would have thought, but I guess sense she was hiding from HYDRA after going rogue, she would want to hide in the open.

As we approach the house, we realize one of Becker's neighbors is out; planting flowers next to her front door. We try to avoid her as we walk up the steps to the house, but she hollers at us anyways.

"What are you two kids doing here?" The woman asks, wiping her forehead and placing her hands on her hips.

I wrap my arm around Barnes's, and lean against him. "My fiancé and I are looking for my cousin. Her name is Emma Becker, is she your neighbor?"

The woman shakes her head, walking towards us and taking her gardening gloves off. "You didn't hear? Well about five years ago these men and women in suits came and took her! One of them said they worked for the government. He sounded American. Since Emma was Russian I wondered why the US government wanted her. But it's none of my business, but her house has been empty for years. I'm sorry."

Barnes and I share a look and I think we both have the same thing in mind. I smile to the woman, thanking her for her help. Arm in arm Barnes and I begin to walk away. Looking over my shoulder, I watch as the woman tends to her flowers again. Once she's distracted, together he and I dart for the other side of the house.

"S.H.I.E.L.D?" I ask Barnes, who nods his head.

"HYDRA wouldn't have taken her alive, and given the man was American I guarantee it was S.H.I.E.L.D, but since they were the same thing five years ago I doubt that matters."

Making our way to the back of the house, Barnes and I try to open the backdoor, but it's locked. I step aside and let Barnes kick at the door, making it fly right open. We both pull our guns out of our backpacks, slowly sneaking inside.

The house looks completely barren. The walls are a nice navy blue and the floor is a cream tile, but that's the only thing to say about the house; there's no decorations, no furniture, no life. I search through the white painted kitchen; finding nothing in the fridge and feeling disappointed when there's nothing in the pantry.

The bedroom upstairs is empty, the living room, bathrooms, and basement are all lifeless. A gut feeling of mine tells me there's something more to this house though. If Becker was working on her experiments here she wouldn't have done them in a normal part of the house. Grabbing onto Barnes's arm, we make our way downstairs. As I step on the middle step on the stairs, I hear a creaking noise. Holding my hand up to tells Barnes to stop, I step on the same spot again. Stepping onto the step below it, I find that it's creaking as well. An idea pops into my head, and I rush down the stairs, placing my hands on the wall below the staircase. My hands find a slight divot in the wall, and with a large push, a door opens from the wall.

I look at Barnes, and he seems impressed. "What made you think of that?"

"A boy named Harry Potter," I say with a victorious smile. Barnes looks very confused at my statement, so with a shake of my head, I explain; "Its a book, or maybe it's more than one book now. There was only one out when I got captured, but he's a boy wizard who lived in a cupboard under the stairs."

Barnes just looks more and more confused, so I wave it off, stepping through the wall door to see what lies inside. This place definitely isn't the cupboard under the stairs like in Harry Potter. The room we are in is about the size of a living room; with a large lab table with bottles, test tubes and several different tools lying on top of it. One of the bottles has a green liquid inside, and as I pick it up there's an odd roaring in my ears, that only gets louder the longer I hold it. Turning to Barnes, I gesture to the bottle. "I think this is my serum." I say, feeling deep in my bones that it's true. It's strange to think that such a seemingly harmless liquid could cause the loss of so many lives and ruin the life of one girl. The longer I stare at it the more entranced I feel, starring at the serum in both anger and melancholy.

Setting down the bottle, I continue to look around the room. Against the wall there are three large bookshelves; all holding books about the human anatomy, animals, and theoretical science. Barnes is looking at what seems to be her desk which is close to the bookcases, but my eyes fall to two chairs on the other side of the room. My heart begins to pick up its pace as I see that there are straps on the arms, legs, and around the back too. A table is next to each chair, where different medical tools like IV's, thermometers, and needles lay. I take in a deep breath and smell the chairs, picking up on faint scents that have dimmed over the years. There were definitely people kept down here though.

My heart rate increases as Barnes turns to me. "Roberts, come look at this."

I walk over to the desk he's standing in front of, seeing that several notebooks, perhaps thirty of them, lay scattered and slightly torn. Barnes is holding up one of them, and as I look at it from the side, I see that she was trying to recreate the serum she gave me. Since the original serum she made was meant to make the subject transform into humans, she figured my batch must have been different. She tried to figure out her mistake that turned a failed project into one of HYDRA's greatest accomplishments; me. My eyes glance over at the chairs, knowing she would need test subjects in order to do what she wished.

As Barnes picks up another notebook, I look in the drawer of the desk, finding three files lying inside. Hearing my heartbeat in my ears, I hesitatingly open the first file, and almost burst into tears. It's Alex's file. With shaking hands I open up the other two. It's Mama and Papa's files.

Reading through every sentence carefully, I find a note made in Alex's file, scratching out whatever base was written before, saying that he is being kept in Yakutsk, Russia. Looking at Mama and Papa's files it doesn't give a location, but Barnes shoves a notebook in my face, that gives me the answer why:

———————————————————————  
November 8th, 2008

Subjects Anika Roberts and Joseph Roberts are not responding to the serum like I would like. Using batch 123, I used a small amount of animal essence to perfect the serum but it only seemed to make both subjects violently ill.  
———————————————————————

Starring at the notebook and the files, a large smile goes over my face, and the sense of relief coursing through me is enough to knock me off my feet. "They're alive! Becker experimented on my parents, so maybe S.H.I.E.L.D took them when Becker was captured! In my brother's file it says he's in the base in Yakutsk, so it's possible they could be there with him!"

Barnes shares my enthusiasm, squeezing my shoulders. "First thing tomorrow we'll head to Yakutsk. I promise we're gonna find them."

Tears begin to stream down my face faster, but I don't care. I don't bother wiping them away, or force my smile to go away. I revel in the fact they are alive, that I didn't give up hope, and that in the next few days, I'll be with them again.


	28. Moon River

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

"I have an idea." Barnes says to me as we walk out of Becker's house. The woman, still tending to her garden, looks over at her old neighbors' house to see us exiting it. She gives us a stare, one that makes me pause for a moment, but I ignore it. She must think it's odd for us to go into an empty house like that.

"What idea?"

"You have just accomplished something incredible, I think we should take a night to celebrate." He says with slight mischief in his smile.

Feeling a grin play on my lips, I question: "What do you have in mind?"

"I say we stay the night in a real hotel. Not an abandoned building or a motel that hasn't been cleaned in a decade, but a real nice hotel where we can eat real food and have a day off."

"That sounds risky."

"It is, but I think we deserve it, don't you? And there is a scarce amount of HYDRA agents in England. What are the odds of one seeing us if we go out in the open for one night?"

Part of me thinks back to Becker's neighbor, or more dangerous people who could glance our way and know who we are. Its already a risk enough that we fly commercially to get from place to place. But I know how much I want to take a night off; staying in a hotel with the luxuries we both are deprived from. So, I turn to Barnes and nod. "Alright, lets do it."

-

The hotel we pick is called the 'Walpole Bay Hotel'. It's rather large; with a beautiful dark orange paint on the outside and windows about every five feet. Each window is painted white and has railings lined around each room, making it look fancy yet homey. We step out of the car, leaving some of our supplies inside and just bringing our backpacks. We open the door to see a brightly lit room, with tons of vintage decorations lying about, including: a grandfather clock, an old telephone, a jukebox, and even a spinning wheel. Barnes's attention seems glued to these items. I watch as he almost numbingly walks up to the old phone and picks it up, lost in his own thoughts.

I walk up to the reception lady, seeing her smiling at me warmly. "Would you like a room?" She asks.

I nod. "Yes, one room please." The lady passes me a book to sign, where I sign a fake name, the date today and the date we're leaving. The lady glances down at it for a second, and asks me for the money to pay for a one night stay. Once everything is paid for, she gives me a room key, saying our room is on the top floor: room C5

Looking over to Barnes, I smile at him and wave the key in the air. "Darling, you ready?"

Letting out a sigh, Barnes looks up to me, and forces a mostly convincing smile. He walks over to me and places his hand in mine, holding onto me until we're out of sight of the lady. Stepping into the elevator, he doesn't say a word until the doors close. "It's so strange seeing those objects here. I kept getting these tiny flashes whenever I touched each one; like me calling Steve on a phone like that, or me seeing a grandfather clock in an Automat."

"What's an automat?"

"An old fashioned fast food restaurant. They don't have them anymore. Now all they have are McDonalds and Krispy Creams."

Letting out a small laugh, I mumble: "Now you really sound like an old man."

Barnes's face turns from slightly sad and annoyed to amused in an instant, which makes me happy. The elevator doors open and together we walk to our hotel room. When I slide the key in and twist, the door unlocks and reveals the most beautiful room I've seen in probably two decades. It's walls are painted the same dark orange as the outside of the building, which looks brighter when compared to the muted reddish brown carpet. There's a bathroom right next to the door, where crimson red tiles line the walls and pictures of vintage machines adorn the walls. There's a bed against one wall and further down is a beautiful dark wood desk, where a record player and a stack of records are. On the opposite wall there is a wooden stand where a tv is and one large window is on the last wall, with a small cream colored loveseat that lies in front of it.

We both walk inside further, walking over to the loveseat and dropping our backpacks down. Barnes gets a look of anticipation on his face as he eyes the bed. The same look grows on my face as the two of us run towards the bed and lie down, simultaneously letting out a groan. I haven't laid down on something so comfortable in so long. It feels like I'm lying on a marshmallow.

Looking at the nightstand next to me, I find that there's a phone resting there, with a menu and number to call for room service. I grab onto the phone and menu, handing the former to Barnes for him to look at. Turning my head to look at the menu as well, I realize how close Barnes and I are; our heads pressed against each other. The contact is comforting, so I ignore the side of my brain telling me that the contact is too comfortable.

Diling the number, I wait until a nice sounding man answers, and I begin to order everything Barnes points to. I add a few of my own choices here and there. Twenty minutes later, I'm answering the door and to find two large trays of food being handed to us by a nice young man. When the man leaves, Barnes and I lay everything out on the floor, with the two of us leaning against the side of the bed, digging in. The food we ordered includes; two large steaks, a plate of fries, a piece of chocolate cake, a plate of pasta, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a bottle of red wine.

Pasta being my favorite food, I almost cry from the wonderful tastes going through my mouth. I haven't had it in 14 years. Barnes has the same look on his face, taking his first bite of steak in god knows how long.

"You know, I think I forgot how good steak is." He mumbles to himself, taking a sip of the wine.

My animal instincts almost hum as I smell the steak. As I take his fork from him and take a bite myself, I couldn't agree with him more. I have to ignore the urge to shift because the meat is so good.

"I know how you feel. I almost cried when we laid in that bed. It's like a cloud." I say with a chuckle, which Barnes joins in on.

Barnes is silent for a moment, before turning more to me, with a serious look on his face. "I have a question I've been wanting to ask you for a while."

Setting down the now empty plate of pasta, I take a sip of wine and turn to him as well. "What is it?"

"I think I know you pretty well by now, and given that, there's something that doesn't make any sense. You're called 'The Savage'. Your reputation is ripping out the hearts of your victims and delivering only single body parts back to HYDRA because you destroyed the rest. At first I thought it was because you don't have control in your animal forms, but that isn't true. So why is there such a disconnect there?"

Setting down the bottle, I take a moment to decide how to respond to this. I have never told anyone this before out of fear of being killed, or worse my family paying the price for my choices. But I trust Barnes, so I tell him.

"My first field assignment was to kill this French emissary. I was sixteen, and it was a simple mission. He was staying at a hotel in Paris and I was going to sneak in through the vent as a mouse and kill him in some predatorial form. That way no one could trace the prints because there are none and they'll think it was some freak accident. I snuck into his room and just as I was about to shift, I saw him smile in his sleep. Even worse I glanced at his nightstand and saw a picture of a wife and three children. I couldn't do it, so I woke him up, told him people were after him and that he needed to get himself and his family out of the country. I went with him to his house, for his family and helped them stowaway on a boat. I told them they couldn't return and had to get completely new identities. Before they left though, I said I needed to prove he had died, so I shifted and bite off his thumb. I took it back to HYDRA in wolf form and they congratulated me on a job well done. They never questioned it. From then on I did that with every kill mission; I would take a body part and help them escape. But I would brag to other cell mates about my missions. I would tell them I tore out hearts and ripped the people apart in order to further that reputation, so I would never be questioned."

Barnes looks entranced, taking a large chug of the wine. "Every base we've been to, I've seen you bite arms and legs and knock people out. But you never killed them. The only person you killed was Setherton and even that I saw you struggle with. So...you never killed for them?"

I shake my head. "After Setherton forced me to kill during my training, I vowed I would never take another innocent life again. There were a few times when a truly awful person came on HYDRA's radar and they sent me after them. It was only few occasions like that where I killed for them. I just...I knew that killing innocent people, even to protect my family, wasn't worth it. I knew...I knew I didn't want to become a monster. I wanted to keep hold of who I was and not let them change me."

Guilt is hidden in Barnes's face, but he smiles softly to me anyways. "You've done a pretty good job of that. I've never met an agent like you. I admire your strength to keep hold of who you are despite what they tried to make you become," He says, his voice rather distant. I reach for his hand, but he stands up suddenly, pain plastered on his face. "I'm going to go take a shower." He tells me, before walking towards the bathroom and shutting the door gently.

-

The shower runs for quite some time. I have a feeling I know what's bothering him and I wish more than anything that I could help. Leaving the piece of cake on the table, I pile up the empty dishes and lay them on the desk, my eyes falling onto the pile of records. Sifting through the selection I find 'The Del Vikings' and I gently place it on the record player. The song 'Come Go With Me' comes on. I remember the times I danced to this song with my parents in our living room with our old record player. I remember how Mama used to twirl me around and how Papa let me stand on his feet.

I find myself beginning to sway to the music, humming to the beautiful voice of Norman Wright. God did I miss dancing. I haven't done it in so long. It's almost like part of me is returning as I twirl once in place. As I do so, I see Barnes standing in the doorway, watching me.

Jumping out of my skin at the sight of him, I place my hand on the desk to steady myself. Barnes lets out a small chuckle at my embarrassment, but his eyes fall onto the record player. "That's a nice song."

I smile, looking down at it. "My mother and I used to dance to this song all the time. It was one of her favorites besides 'Moon River' of course."

Barnes gives me a confused look. "Moon River?"

"My mother went to school in America briefly. While she was there she became obsessed with Audrey Hepburn movies. She brought all her movies back to Germany. Her favorite movie of all time is 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'," I say, almost forgetting I'm talking to anyone besides myself. "In the movie Audrey Hepburn sings this song called 'Moon River'. My mother would sing it to me every night before I went to sleep. I would sing it to myself at night while I was in my cell, even if the guards yelled at me for it. I would sing it because it comforted me, but also because it brought me closer to her." I say, smiling to myself.

Barnes is now sitting down on the bed, his gaze locked on me. His voice is firm, yet soft as he asks: "Will you sing it for me?"

Of all the things I thought he'd ask I didn't think it'd be that. But I know hearing me say I didn't kill for HYDRA made him feel guilty that he did kill for HYDRA. I hate that he blames himself for something he wasn't in control over, but I can't say I wouldn't do the same in his shoes. If this song gave me comfort whenever I felt lost and alone, maybe it will do the same for him.

So with a deep breath, I lean against the desk, focusing my eyes on the still spinning record player. Taking the stylus off the record, I begin to sing: "Moon river, wider than a mile. I'm crossing you in style some day. Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way. Two drifters, off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend, my Huckleberry friend, moon river and me."

I look back at Barnes and his eyes are closed, he looks the most relaxed I have ever seen him. When I finish, his eyes fall back to me. "You have a beautiful voice. You sound just like Vera Lynn."

Scoffing at him, I join him over on the bed. Our shoulders gently brush against each other, but I don't move away. Hesitantly, and very gently, I place my hand over his, waiting to see how he'll react. He turns his hand to link his fingers with mine. I look into his eyes as I say this next part: "I know that no matter what I say it won't make the guilt go away, but I want you to know that you're a good person. You're a good person who had something horrible happen to you. And that is not your fault. I know how lonely you feel, and how used you are to that feeling, but like you told me, you don't have to do things alone anymore."

Unexpectedly, Barnes places a gentle kiss on the back my hand, before letting go of his grip altogether. "Thank you." He says slightly awkwardly, standing up off the bed. He walks over towards the loveseat, beginning to put our backpacks onto the ground.

"What are you doing?" I ask him.

"You can have the bed. I'll take the loveseat."

"We've been sleeping in the same bed for weeks now, you don't have to be a gentlemen," I say, crawling to the right side of the bed and slipping into the covers. "Besides, you need to experience the marshmallow too."

Smirking, Barnes makes his way over to the bed, getting under the covers as well. With both of us lying on our backs, I lean over and turn off the light, enveloping us in darkness.

"Goodnight, Soroya." Barnes mumbles.

Smiling to myself, I turn my back to him, curling my arms against my chest, shutting my eyes. "Goodnight, old man."


	29. Exposed

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Roberts is sitting silently in the passenger's seat, starring off at the beautiful England hills as we drive to the airport. It's beginning to get cold. The grass adorning the hills have become tipped with frost and the trees are beginning to loose their color. It's rather beautiful. If only we could afford to appreciate it, but our lives don't give us those kind of luxuries.

Roberts jerks her head towards the radio suddenly, turning the volume up, a small smile forms on her face. "I love this song."

I listen for a moment, realizing I know this song. I get a small flash of me dancing to this song with two other girls. I twirl them both and watch as their dresses become flashes of fabric, their smiles brighten under the dimmed lights. The song clearly came out during the war, since I'm in an army uniform and the two girls seem to be nurses. I recognize the sweet voices of the Andrews Sisters. The song itself is; 'Civilization'.

"When they've got two weeks vacation, they hurry to vacation ground," Roberts sings softly, tapping her hand against her lap. "They swim and they fish, but that's what I do all year round."

Tapping my own fingers against the wheel of the car and looking back at the road, I begin to sing as well; "So bongo, bongo, bongo, I don't wanna leave the Congo, oh no no no no no."

Roberts and I glance at each other simultaneously; a look of not only surprise, but of slight amusement at the other knowing and singing along to the song.

"Bingo, bangle, bungle, I'm so happy in the jungle, I refuse to go," I sing alone, since it's Danny Kaye's solo line, but after I sing; "Don't want no jailhouse."

Roberts sings; "Shotgun!"

"Fish-hooks!"

"Golf clubs!"

"I got my spear!" I sing, starting to laugh towards the end of the sentence.

With more enthusiasm, Roberts hits her lap at the same time the drums do, singing; "So, no matter how they coax him..."

"I'll stay right here." I finish off.

With a large smile, Roberts continues; "They have things like the atom bomb!"

Turning my head to her, I sing; "So I think I'll stay where I am."

And together we chime in and sing the final line; "Civilization, I'll stay right here!"

Once the sing ends, the two of us are left smiling like idiots, with me feeling slightly embarrassed at singing in front of her. I can tell she feels the same. But I don't think either of us care, because that was a moment of levity that we don't get to have often, if ever.

"That song is so catchy, but man is it offensive." Roberts says starting to laugh.

Chuckling as well, I nod in agreement. "As a lot of things we're back then. My time had many virtues, but open mindedness was not one of them."

"Did you have those pin up girl pictures during the war? Because that was definitely something not progressive."

"I wasn't bad like the other men, but I did have a picture of Lauren Bacall in my tent at my army camp."

"She and Humphrey Bogart made a beautiful couple, and I always loved her in the 'Big Sleep'."

Feeling genuinely impressed, I nod to her. "Your knowledge and appreciation for my culture and time is flattering."

Roberts shrugs. "It's my favorite time period, though granted it wasn't a really pleasant time overall. I fundamentally disagree with a lot of the social aspects back then, but the music, the clothes, the films, the dancing! Ugh the dancing alone is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

"My time had a charm to it, but it was very hard, too, and harsh for a lot of innocent people. But everything you just listed was as great as you think, maybe even better."

"Did you have a favorite film back then? Favorite singer?"

I take these questions into genuine consideration, thinking very hard on what the answers are. "I remember loving Casablanca in theaters. I took a date to go see it. I remember us both crying at the end when Rick and Ilsa parted ways. Favorite singer...I would say was Vera Lynn. She had such a gorgeous voice, a lot like yours."

Roberts blushes, tucking hair behind her ear. "I regret singing to you in that hotel."

"I'm serious, Roberts. If Vera Lynn was German, you and her would sound identical. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just fact."

Roberts glances back up at me and smiles. "Well thank you, I appreciate that. I am a big fan of Vera Lynn, though my favorite singer of that time is definitely Fred Astaire."

"Eh, he was a better dancer. Even in that regard I think he was kind of overrated."

Roberts slaps my arm playfully, making me chuckle. After a moment she joins in with me. Through our enjoyment, I keep glancing at the rear view mirror, seeing a black two seater car driving awfully close behind us.

"Look." I say to Roberts, who follows my gaze and looks behind us, the happiness draining from her face as she sees the black car.

She looks back at me, shaking her head. "It couldn't be. After how many airports we've been to if HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D were to catch us it would have happened already."

"You never know. All it takes is someone to recognize us and then we're exposed. Besides there's a lot of people in airports, we had fake ID's, and we had disguises each time. That hotel was in the middle of a city and neither of us were hiding our identities, even though you used a fake name."

"Just see if he follows us. Turn a right here and try to get back on the road at the next exit." She says calmly.

I do as she says, making a right turn and continuing down the road. Roberts and I both watch anxiously as the car follows us down the road. When the next exit comes, I make another turn to get back onto the road. Once again the car follows us.

"What are we gonna do? It was that neighbor. I had a gut feeling something was off but I didn't want to believe she was bad."

I look around the road and see that several cars are driving besides us. Glancing back at the person tailing us, I try to think of a plan.

As much as I appreciate Roberts's faith in people, I don't comment on it right this moment. I look back to her and say: "Alright, we need to get away from civilians. Pull out the map, tell me how to get out of the city."

Roberts fishes through her backpack and pulls it out, scanning the roads and highways until she points to one, saying rather quickly: "If you take this next exit and keep going straight it will lead us to the country side."

With a nod, I jerk the car and switch lanes, getting a few car horns blown my direction in the process. Taking the next exit. Roberts and I watch with increasing dread as the car does the same thing. Once off the main road, I press harder on the gas, speeding down the almost barren road. The black car picks up speed as well, and as they gain speed, I can make the outline of a gun being aimed.

"Get down!" I yell just in time. The man in the car fires and shatters the back window of the car, spraying Roberts and I with shattered glass.

Roberts grabs her gun, sitting up slightly in her seat to aim and fire back at the man. She misses however, and more bullets fly towards us. I swerve the car to the left, relaxing my foot on the gas so our car is right beside his. When I glance over there are three people in the car; two men and a woman. The man driving the car looks over to us, turning his wheel to bash his car against ours. The man in the passenger seat aims his gun again, but is pushed back by me bashing our car against theres. The woman in the back has a gun as well, and she is able to put a bullet through one of our tires.

The car spins for a moment, and as their car rams itself into ours one last time, I see the world be turned upside down. I hear the sound of a loud crashing, before a solid object hits my head, and the world goes dark.


	30. The Chair

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"Barnes. Barnes come on. James wake up!" I hear faintly, before my eyes burst open. There is a pounding in my head that seems to get louder as I become more aware. I think I have some gash on my head from the crash. I look down and see there are a couple of cuts throughout my body. But my mind isn't focused on that, it's focused on the chair I'm attached to, and the straps around my arms and legs. I look up and see the familiar metal machine arm and metal plates attached to it. I'm back in the electric chair.

"Soroya, you okay?" I ask, trying to clear my throat but it's far too dry.

She nods, and this is when I notice she's in an identical chair to mine. She has a cut on her temple, and as I look down I see that there's a gash on her arm. Her attention isn't on her injuries though, she's focusing on me. Concern is etched in every feature of her face. "Never better. Are you alright?"

"Just fine. What happened?"

"After you got knocked out in the car crash," She says with a slight hiss, I glance down at her wound again and try to break from my bonds. It's no use though. "They injected me with something that knocked me out. I woke up as we arrived at this base. I think we're back in Russia."

"You would be correct." A voice says from the shadows. Approaching us is the man I saw driving the car, with the other man and woman right behind him. Though the pain is making my vision slightly blurred, I can still make out that the woman in this group is Becker's neighbor. I look over and see Roberts look angrily towards the woman. The man smiles at me, crouching down in front of me to get a closer look.

"Look at you; The Winter Soldier. You know my father was a HYDRA agent, he used to tell me stories about you. Some of them filled me with awe, but mostly, your very name terrified me," a glint of amusement dances around his eyes as he looks over my body and the chair. "You don't look so terrifying now. In fact, you look weak. You look broken, a shadow of a once brilliant assassin."

"Take these bindings off and I'll show you whose the weak one."

The man laughs, shaking his head. "I would love to, but we don't have time. You see the remnants of HYDRA have been looking for you. The world needs to be reminded whose on top, and you're the ticket...well you and your friends."

My heart stops dead in my chest. Looking around more closely, I begin to recognize where I am being held. Frantically, I begin to pull at the binds. "No. No, we're not in—"

"Siberia? Oh, yes we are. If there's anyway we can revive HYDRA, it's with its best team of assassins the world has ever known."

"No. No! You can't wake them up!"

"Yes, I can. But first we need to reset you so we can control them. You're the leader after all," he says, walking over to the machine and pressing a button, lowering the arm and pressing the cold plates against my face. "So lead." He flips a switch, and I feel the burning hot pain go through my entire body.

Letting out a wail of agony, I try to pull at the binds with all my strength, but they won't budge. I can feel the voltage being intensified, and my voice cracks from the screams.

Roberts frantically tries to break loose, yelling my name and telling me to hang on, that I'll be fine. This only makes our captors laugh.

Feeling hot tears flow down my face, I remember what I used to do to fight off the shocks. I begin to repeat things to myself over and over; Steve Rogers, my dead family, Soroya Roberts. Steve Rogers, my dead family, Soroya Roberts. Steve Rogers, my dead family, Soroya Roberts.

The shocks keep coming, but I continue to try and free myself, focusing on the people who matter; the reasons why I need to fight this off.

All of the sudden, I hear a flapping noise. I look over at the man, seeing a bird pecking at his eyes. Before the three of them can pull their guns out, the bird disappears into the darkness, and without a moment's hesitation, a leopard springs forward and tears at the man's chest. I can no longer truly focus on Roberts, but I hear the screams of terror and pain, as well as the growls of a predator in the hunt. But after a few minutes go by, the sounds stop, and from the corner of my eye, I see Roberts turning off the machine with her paw. I let out a shudder when the electric shocks stop, feeling like my body has become liquid. She rips the arm back, tearing the binds with her claws. She shifts into her human body in time to catch me.

She holds me up, setting me back down in the chair. Holding my face in hers, she gently rubs her thumb over my cheek bone. "Look at me, James, please James look at me."

I try my best to, and am able to focus on her for a moment. "What's your name?"

"James Buchanan Barnes."

"What's my name?"

"Soroya Roberts."

"Tell me something only he would know."

"You sound like Vera Lynn when you sing. You...you love pasta. You tuck hair behind your ear a lot."

Roberts smiles at me, leaving me for a moment to slip her shirt and pants on. She returns moments later, grabbing onto my arms and pulling me to my feet. She continues to hold onto me as we try to get out of the room. I sling an arm over her shoulder, grateful that with her abilities, she can hold up my weight. When we open the door, we see nothing but blowing wind and snow.

Feeling the cold hit my very bones, I almost fall over from pure exhaustion, but Roberts holds me upright. She carries me over to the car we were kidnapped in, securing me in the passengers seat. Roberts gets behind the wheel, turning the ignition on and quickly driving us away from the base. Since it's rough terrain, she takes her time, continuing to glance at me repeatedly.

"I'm sorry, but I keep worrying what they did is going to reset you."

I shake my head, feeling my eyes grow heavy. "They would need the passwords. Just the electrocutions wouldn't reset me. The shocks were meant to make me forget. The passwords were to make me do their bidding."

"Do you remember?"

I nod, closing my eyes as another tear falls. "I remember everything."

I can see the sympathy in Roberts eyes. She reaches over and gently touches my hand. "You should get some rest. I'll let you know when we're somewhere safe."

With a nod, I lean my head against the seat, my eyes shutting tightly, and my mind slipping into a dream. Not a bad dream, but one that reminds me of what my life is. I see myself dancing, clearly in the 40's given my outfit. There right beside me is Steve, with his own girl twirling around him. I look in front of me and it's Roberts, smiling up at me: her hair in ringlet curls. She's wearing a beautiful red dress. The dream has a glossy, almost golden hue to it that serves as a reminder that it isn't real. But while it lasts I enjoy it. I enjoy the life I could have once had.


	31. Magdalena

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

I keep glancing over at Barnes, my concern increasing as the minutes turn into hours. He has been asleep for a long time. Though I did pretty good with his thigh wound, if he has any brain injury there's no way I can fix that.

Now that we are back on the main road, I keep my eyes open to find a place, any place at all for us to stop and catch our breath.

Spotting an exit, I take it and to my pleasure it leads to a pretty run down part of Siberia. There seems to be some houses and some run down buildings, but very few signs of life. The wind is picking up and the sun is starting to set; meaning the roads will be horrible and there's no way we will be able to go anywhere for the rest of the night. I think that's a good thing though. Hearing the car beginning to hiccup, my breath catches in my chest. In horror I watch as the car begins to slow down.

"No no no no, shit shit! Please don't do this! Not now!" I beg the car. I pull over to the side of the road, groaning as the car ignores my wishes and stops with a final huff.

Stepping out of the car, I curse again as the cold Russian wind blows in my face. Trying to cover my arms, I pop the hood and try to see what's wrong. It looks pretty okay to me, but HYDRA didn't bother to teach me about cars. Slamming the hood, I glance at Barnes through the glass, seeing that he's still out cold.

"Do you need help?" A Russian woman covered in weather appropriate clothes asks me. I hesitate slightly, given what we had been through today, but my instincts tell me she's a good person.

Feeling the exhaustion envelop me, I feel my voice slightly break as I say. "My car is broken down and my fiancé and I...we got mugged today. He hit his head really hard and he's been asleep for a long time."

She approaches me quickly, examining the cut on my forehead and the gash on my arm. She then goes to open the passenger seat of the car, touching Barnes's head with the back of her hand. She looks back at me, saying: "He doesn't have a fever. He may have a concussion though. Will you help me get him inside?"

"Inside where?" I ask, helping her grab onto his arm.

"You two can stay with me and my family. It's warm and we have a spare room and some food."

The woman grunts under his weight, but she and I manage to get him down a small hill to where her house is. The house is one floor, with the windows shining orange light against the white snow. The chimney is emitting smoke that warms me from even out here. As the woman opens the door, I see her family are as warm as the house they live in. They smile at us widely, before looks of genuine concern flood their faces as she and I drag Barnes in.

"What happened? Who is this?" A man I assume is her husband asks.

"I found her and her fiancé in a broken down car on the side of the road. They got mugged and he hit his head."

Without another word, her husband takes over carrying Barnes from his wife, leading the way to the spare room. I open the door for us and together we lay Barnes down on the bed. Sitting on the edge, I let out a sigh, smiling up at the man. "Thank you so much for inviting us into your home."

The man waves his hand, shaking his head. "It's our pleasure. I'm sorry you had that happen to you, it's scary how horrible people can be."

If only you knew. "I agree. I'm sorry if this is an inconvenience on your family."

"Oh stop, it's no inconvenience. I'll have my son start a fire in here and my wife will cook you up some soup and some bread. I have a medical kit here, let me take a look at that arm of yours."

Genuinely grateful, I smile at him. "Thank you."

After a moment, the man disappears and his son comes in carrying an arm full of fire wood. He places it down in the fireplace, grabbing a match and lighting the logs. He turns around to me, a boyish grin on his face. "I'm Tom!" He exclaims proudly.

I let out a chuckle. "It's nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Soroya," I then point to Barnes behind me. "This is my fiancé; James."

"You're really pretty." He says with a blush.

I continue to laugh as his mother comes in with a tray. On it are two bowls of soup and pieces of bread. She shakes her head at her son, telling him to go out with his father. I watch him run off, smiling at the woman as she sets the tray on the table across from the bed. "You have a beautiful family."

She smiles at me. "Thank you, I'm sure one day you and your fiancé will have a beautiful one too."

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I point to the soup, just now noticing how delicious it smells. "What kind of soup is that?"

"An old family recipe. It's chicken based with some secret sauce and some vegetables. I hope you like it," she says, walking towards the door. "If you need anything our bedroom is down the hall. Tomorrow we will get someone to fix your car. My name is Alena Petrov, you already met my son Tom, and my husband's name is Kacper."

I nod to her, walking over to the table, taking a mouthful of soup. Letting out a satisfied moan, I smile at her. "This is delicious."

"I'm glad you like it," She says, watching as her husband slips into the room, opening up the medical kit and a bottle of vodka. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I tell her, wincing as her husband pours the vodka on my arm.

"Do you know what this mugger looked like? Perhaps you could report him."

I shake my head, watching as he begins to stitch my arm up. "It was far too dark. I think there were multiple of them. I'm just worried about my fiancé, I hope his head injury isn't serious."

As Kasper finishes stictching my arm, he walks over to the bed and gently touches Barnes head, turning his attention back to me. "I'd say he probably has a concussion. You'll stay here for a few days until you're both better. Concussions are very serious, he may need to lay down for a while."

I nod to him, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. This once again proves that my faith in people isn't unjustified.

Picking up his kit, Kasper shuts the door gently behind him. Without a moment's hesitation I begin to dig into his wife's soup. I don't think I've ever tasted something so delicious. She must have melted some cheese on the bread, because it's a thousand times better than regular bread. Or maybe I'm just so starving anything will taste good to me now.

I hear a moan come from behind me. I turn to see Barnes begin to sit up. I drop the soup bowl on the table and rush towards him, pushing him against the bed. "Stop, just relax. Relax."

"Where are we?"

"In a really nice family's house. Our car broke down and they brought us in. They gave us food and this room."

He opens his eyes finally, but he closes them quickly, probably because of the light of the lantern next to us. Opening and shutting his eyes several times, he finally rests his gaze on me. "Are you alright? How's your arm?" He asks, touching the stitches gently.

I wince slightly, making him retract his hand. I shake my head and try to give him a reassuring look. "The husband had a medical kit, so he was kind enough to stitch me up."

Barnes's stares at my stitches for a long time, his voice is quiet as he says: "I owe you."

"Don't—"

"Who knows what they could have done to me. If they had the passwords I could have..." He trails off, focusing his eyes on the floor. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you had left me there."

I grab onto his face gently, forcing his gaze back onto me. "If you had been reset, I still wouldn't have left you."

He lets out a scoff. "I still don't understand after spending most of your life in HYDRA, how you trust people so easily."

I shrug. "I just listen to what my heart says and not what my training says."

"I promise by tomorrow we will be on our way to Yakutsk."

"Hey, you need your rest. Don't worry about it, Mr and Mrs Petrov said we can stay until we're both better. We will take as long as you need. Men of your age need time to recuperate, Barnes." I say, trying to add some levity.

Barnes seems to be contemplating something, and after a moments hesitation, he says: "Bucky."

I give him a puzzled look. "What?"

"Before HYDRA, before I fell off that train, that's what my friends called me: Bucky."

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"You're the closest thing I have to a friend."

Feeling my cheeks heat again, I smile at him, a question roaming around my brain. "So why 'Bucky'?"

"My middle name is Buchanan, so 'Bucky' is from that. I don't know who started calling me that, but I don't think that's the brainwashing. I just think that's a result of being in my nineties."

Chuckling, I appreciate him finally being the one to poke fun at his age. "Well all my friends called me 'Soroya'. But now that I know you have a nickname, I want one too."

"It's hard to make a nickname from Soroya." Bucky points out.

"That's true. Since you have a nickname from your middle name, let's make one from mine."

"What's your middle name?"

"Magdalena."

He raises his eyebrows with a smirk growing on his lips. I slap his arm, which makes him chuckle. "It's a family name," I explain. "My grandmother's name was Magdalena."

Bucky ponders this for a moment. "Maggie?"

I shake my head in disgust. "Absolutely not. How about...Lena?"

Bucky nods. "That suits you," He says, trying to sit up a little. "What did you tell them our names were?"

"I only had that conversation with their son and I gave him our real names. But we can trust them, I have—"

"A gut feeling?"

Smirking, I nod. "Yes, a gut feeling."

He moves over in the small bed, and it's then I realize how small the bed actually is. I start to think about how our sleeping arrangements will be, but I decide it isn't important right now. "You need to eat something." I tell him, picking up the tray of food, placing it on the bed between us.

Bucky sits up, not wasting a second before digging into the bread and the soup. This is when I notice she left us both a glass of what appears to be hot chocolate. I take a sip, not only appreciating the heat, but the taste of chocolate. I have been deprived of it for too long. Handing him his glass, I hold my own in the air. "To the Petrov's."

Bucky clinks my glass with his own. "May they give us the recipe to this soup." Getting a chuckle out of both of us. As we eat our soup and finish off every crumb of the bread, I feel the most relaxed and safe I have in a long time.


	32. Blame

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

Waking up, I feel my forehead pressed against something hard. I open my eyes, needing to blink a few times before seeing that the object my head is against is Bucky's forehead. My breath catches in my chest as I realize how close we are together. His arm is resting under my neck, with his metal arm draping over his side and our legs practically intertwined. His hair has fallen across his face, nearly tickling my nose.

It has been over a week and a half since we arrived at the Petrov's house. Everyday Bucky's strength returns more and more. After the fourth day of us being here he went outside, finally being able to handle the bright light. In the mornings we went for walks outside the house, actually for once being able to enjoy the snow now that we have coats and gloves. The Petrov's give us three meals a day, including Alena Petrov's soup at least once a day. They regularly check to make sure my wound and his concussion are healing properly.

In order to keep up the facade of being engaged, we have shared the small bed. Usually, the beds we have slept in were huge and we could put significant distance between us. In this bed, we can barley put one inch between us. There have been several mornings that we have woken up in this position; so close together I can feel his breath on my face. I shouldn't like it as much as I do.

Feeling my heartbeat quicken, I force my gaze away from him, gently lifting myself off the bed. Stretching out my arms and legs, I can't help but stare down at him. He looks very relaxed, more so than I've ever seen him. Something I've noticed about him is that he sleeps with his arms covering his chest. It's sort of like he's creating a shield to protect himself while he sleeps. Right now though, he has no shield. His arms fall onto the place where I had just slept. He moves his hands around that area as if looking for me.

Feeling my cheeks burn, I feel the need to get out of this room. I slip into the hallway, finding the Petrov family in happy spirits.

Alena Petrov is currently making eggs and toast while her son Tom plays with a toy train on the floor. My mind is caught on the train, smiling softly as the image of my brother doing the same thing comes up. Alex loves trains.

Alena notices my presence and smiles. "I was just about to come check on you both. Did you sleep well?"

I nod, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. "I slept very well, thank you."

Alena walks over to the kitchen table, placing the food down, turning back to me. "Here is something to eat for you both. Kacper is working with our neighbor on your car. He's a mechanic, so you should be in good hands. Kacper and I had an extra can of gasoline so he's filling your car up."

"We are so grateful for your kindness. I can never repay it."

"Oh it's my pleasure," she says with a smile. "Where are you and James heading off to?"

"Yakutsk, to visit my brother."

"I hope you don't plan on driving the whole way."

I shake my head, sitting down at the table, taking a bite of the toast. "No, we will just drive until we find an airport. Do you know where one is?"

"The closest one I would say is thirty miles north of here. If you stay on this road and keep going straight, there will be a signs that lead you right there."

"We're very grateful," a voice says from behind us. Alena and I both look towards the entrance to the living room where Bucky stands, still looking half asleep. "For everything, ma'am."

Alena smiles at Bucky, looking rather flustered. The days we've spent here I've seen the secret glances she's stolen his way. I find it quite amusing. I don't blame her for wanting to stare, Bucky is one of the handsomest men I've ever seen. "It's no problem. How is your head doing?"

"Better than ever, thanks to you."

She blushes, glancing back at me. "I still wish we could find the people who mugged you. It's so terrible."

Bucky glances at me for a nanosecond before responding with: "All that matters is that nothing happened to her."

Alena touches her chest. "How sweet." She says, her cheeks reddening even more. It takes all my self control not to chuckle, but I feel my own cheeks reddening too.

As he sits down next to me and begins to eat, Kacper walks in, announcing our car has been fixed and has a full tank of gas. Bucky stands to shake his hand in thanks, a genuine smile on his face. I can almost see Kacper puff his chest out slightly upon seeing him. This is also not the first time he's done this.

I look over at Tom, still playing with his train on the floor. I bend down, smile at him. "It was lovely meeting you, Tom."

He grins at me. "You too!"

Bucky glances down at the kid, and when Tom smiles up at him too, Bucky gives him a wink and tousles his hair.

Our backpacks are already in the car as well as our supplies. We were lucky enough to avoid them finding any of our weapons. We were smart to only keep our guns in our backpacks, so when they popped the trunk they didn't find anything that turned us out of their house.

"I can't thank you enough for all you've done for us." I tell Alena and Kasper as we walk out of the house, tightening the scarf they gave me around my neck.

Kacper smiles, wrapping a hand around his wife's waist. "Drive safely, I wish you two well."

I wave at them, and to Tom in the window. After a moment, Bucky does the same. I get into the driver's seat, turning the heat on as soon as I get my seatbelt on, trying to warm the car up. Bucky gets into the passenger's seat, glancing back at the happy couple still standing outside their house.

"Will you miss your admirer?" I ask him with a smile.

Bucky glances back at me and glares. "Very funny, Lena."

That's the first time he's ever called me that, and it makes me smile. He must know what's going through my head, because after a moment, he smiles too. Looking away from him I start the car engine, and with one finale wave, I pull away from the Petrov's house.

-

"Do you think we should have gone back to the Siberia base?" I ask Bucky. We are sitting at our airport gate; with our arms interlocked and my head resting on his shoulder.

I feel him shake his head. "No, why?"

"Because that was where you were based at. We could have gotten a lot of information on you. I've just been thinking if it was right to leave right away."

Bucky pats my arm gently with his metal hand. Even through the glove I can feel it's cold touch. "I know everything those files could tell me. All I need is time for the rest of my memories to come back," he turns a little in his seat to look at me better. I lift my head to do the same. "What about you? We never went to the base you were stationed at."

Closing my eyes, I tense up a little. "Yes we did."

He gives me a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Lensk. That was the base I was stationed at. I'm-I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just had so many horrible memories there...it just didn't seem like a good time to bring it up."

He nods, and it almost seems like this revelation doesn't surprise him. "We weren't at close enough back then, I get why you wouldn't want to talk about your past with me."

Feeling slightly guilty, I lean my head back on his shoulder. After a moment he rests his chin on my head.

We sit in silence for a few moments, before I find myself speaking rather frantically. "I'm scared to go to Yakutsk. I doubt my parents are there, but we know Alex is. But who knows how long ago that was written, he could have been transferred. And if my parents were experimented on that probably means he was too, given they all share my DNA which is why they were experimented on in the first place—"

"Don't blame yourself for what happened to them."

"I don't think I'll ever stop blaming myself. They were taken, tortured, experimented on, and kept captive because they shared my blood. It is my fault."

Bucky squeezes my shoulder, and I can't help but feel the irony that the Winter Soldier has become my confidant. But as I look back up at him that's not who I see. I just see Bucky.

"Even if Alex isn't there we will continue to look for him until we do."

With a smile I lean my head back down on his shoulder. "You're the best pretend fiancé a girl could hope for." I whisper to him.

He lets out a chuckle, clasping his hand with mine. "Ditto."


	33. Alexander Roberts

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

"Why didn't we check this base before? Why didn't I have it on my map?" I wonder aloud as Bucky and I stand outside the Yakutsk base.

Bucky loads his gun, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a relatively new base. I remember only being here a couple times. I remember seeing you here too."

I give him a puzzled look. "I've never been here before. They must have kept this place secret from me for a reason. That reason has to be Alex. I can feel it in my bones. He's here."

Bucky still has a confused look on his face, but he stays silent in thought as we approach the base. It does look very new. As we get nearer and nearer I start to worry that this base is still active given how good shape it's in. Taking in a deep breath, I try to sense if anyone is here, but all I smell is a lot of blood. I can't sense any people, and that's probably because blood masks any other smell a room has. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing right now.

Stepping aside, I let Bucky use his metal arm to rip the door off, allowing him slip inside the base first. The floors seem to just have developed a thin layer of dust. None of the lights flicker and besides a good cleaning, this base looks in top shape. Taking a right at the end of the hall, I find a trail of dead HYDRA agents lying on the floor. By the smell of their blood, they died several months ago. The rotting smell makes my eyes blur with tears and a gag come up my throat. These are the times having heightened smell isn't a virtue. Covering my nose with my sleeve, Bucky and I maneuver our way around the soldiers, checking each door as we walk down the hall. Each room has fallen chairs and broken tables, with some bodies hidden within some. When we make it to the end of this hall, we find that we're at a crossroads.

I take another whiff of the air, figuring that maybe now we're away from the dead agents I'll be able to sense any living people. Holding back another gag, I conclude I will need to use other senses in order to find my brother. "You go left, I'll go right." I say to him, and without another word the two of us spilt up.

I dont find anything of use in this hall; it leads to another hall that has a dead end. I did find a dead prisoner though. It breaks my heart to see how close to freedom she came, only to be shot down by the people who kept her prisoner.

I try to strain my ears and hear any movement, but even with the heightened hearing i can't find anything. I heard movement once, but when I started getting my hopes up all it was was Bucky making his way down another hall.

Making my way back down the hall, I find Bucky again with a hopeful look on his face. "I found an elevator as well as a room that has a map of the base on the wall."

"Why don't all bases do that? It would make our lives easier."

Walking down the left hall, we find the elevator at the end of another crossroads. Pressing the down button, we watch as the doors open. As we slip inside, Bucky presses the 'PL' button for prison level.

I can feel my hands slightly shake as we wait. I'm filled with so much anticipation I think I might pass out. Bucky places his hand in mine for a moment, squeezing it as a way to comfort me. I appreciate the gesture, but it does nothing. I know I won't calm down until I find Alex.

Once the doors reopen, I smell an overwhelming amount of blood. But it isn't old or rotting, it's new. Very new.

Aiming my gun up, I see more and more fallen guards and HYDRA agents. The cells in this prison are steel bars, like the ones I had at my base. Through these bars I see most prisoners were killed inside their cells. Only a few are lying about; having almost tasted freedom but missed it by a hair.

This base's cells are set up like rows, with cells on both sides of each isle. It gets more and more sad as we pass by each cell and find the prisoners who never lived to get out of HYDRA's grasp. The officers who ran the base must have either killed any prisoners that were useless to them. Or maybe the prisoners thought they could achieve freedom with HYDRA exposed. But they took their chance and failed. I hope Alex isn't among them.

Turning a corner, I hear a noise coming from further down the hall of cells. Taking my gun off safety, I quiet my footsteps, cautiously approaching the sound. Bucky, trusting my senses by now, does the same; his gun aimed and ready to fire. As we get closer, the noise starts to sound more distinct. Once we go four rows down, I stop abruptly. With my gun aimed and ready, I peer over the side to see a large wolf.

The wolf is growling loudly, gnawing on a bone that I can only guess came from one of the many fallen HYDRA guards. I take in a deep breath of air, having to suppress a gasp when I find his scent is extremely familiar. Turning my head to Bucky, I let out a broken whisper. "It's Alex."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents had the serum. Becker said they didn't respond well to it, but she didn't say anything about Alex. I was wondering why she had Alex's file in the first place, but she must have injected him before the project was terminated. But since it worked on him, HYDRA wanted to keep him and use him like they did with me."

"Makes sense. You and him have the same genes, so the serum would work for him," Bucky has a look of revelation, as he says: "I remember taking prisoners here to be executed. This whole time I thought it was you. But it was your brother."

"He doesn't look like he's in control, no one must have trained him."

"Can you get him back?"

"I'll have to try," I say, giving him my gun. "You need to promise me you won't shoot him."

"But he could kill—"

"Bucky," I say, realizing this is the first time I've called him that out loud, by the look on his face he realizes it too. "Promise me."

He stares at me for a moment, before reluctantly nodding his head. "I promise."

With a deep breath, I turn the corner, watching as the wolf's eyes turn to me, hostility in it's eyes.

"Alex," I say softly, approaching the wolf with my hands up in surrender, not suppressing the smile that goes over my face. "Alex it's me, Soroya."

The wolf doesn't change its expression. It gets up from the ground, beginning to bear its teeth.

"Alex, I know you're in there. I know it. I know it's hard to control yourself when you are shifted. But you can fight it. You just have to remember. Remember who you are."

The wolf crouches down and lunges towards me. I move out of the way, rolling on the ground and stopping in a crouch. The wolf bangs into a broken cell, with its metal bars fallen to the floor.

The wolf gets back up easily, running towards me again. I kick at him, managing to get away long enough to get a grip on one of the broken cell bars, holding it up just in time for the wolf to lunge at me again. His teeth try to eat it's way through the metal bar I have between me and him. The more and more he tries, he seems to be getting frustrated.

"Your name," I say loudly over his growls. "Is-is Alexander Thomas Roberts."

The wolf continues to bite and gnaw at the bar, his claws beginning to sink into my leg.

"You were born on January 23rd, 1986. You grew up in Hamburg, Germany; a place you loved with all your heart. You were two when I was born, and you used to tell me it was one of the best days of your life."

Still holding the wolf at bay, I let out a small groan as the claws on his back legs draw blood. I feel it drip from my calfs.

"Your mother is Anika Roberts and your father is Joseph Roberts," I say, and this makes the wolf pause. "They used to watch movies with us every weekend. They-they even watched those John Hughes movies for you, even though they hated them. They love old music...and you always complained that they didn't listen to anything good."

The wolf releases its grip on the bar, retracting it's claws, stepping back a little from me. Placing the bar down, I sit up, starring the wolf down.

"You love trains, and from the time you were five years old you wanted to work on them for a living. You love 80's and 90's rock music, which I never understood why. You love going to October Fest every year. You got to see Madonna in concert once and you said you cried when she winked at you."

The wolf's eyes begin to turn from black to brown, and this makes my smile grow. I continue to talk to him, tears springing into my eyes. "You used to get teased for hanging out with your baby sister. I remember when you were ten and I was eight; your friend said that it was lame to spend time with me. You looked at him and said that I was your best friend and you didn't care if that made you lame," I say, feeling the tears fall down my cheeks. "You're my best friend too, Alex. You're my big brother and you need to come back. Alex, please."

The wolf bows it's head, and slowly, the fur begins fading into skin. The tail disappears, the snarl turns into a groan, and a snout turns into a nose. I crawl over to my brother, shrugging my jacket off and placing it around him. Numbingly he covers himself up, blinking a few times before he finally looks at me. His hair has the same brown curls I remember, the same brown eyes as well. He's so much taller now though, with sharp features and scruff on his face.

A smile grows on my brother's face, his eyes beginning to grow cloudy. "Soroya?" He asks.

I nod my head, letting out a laugh of happiness and relief. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling sobs begin to wrack my chest. After a few seconds, Alex wraps his arms around me too, squeezing me so tight I feel like my ribs will break. But I don't care, I have my brother back, and that's all that matters.

I pull back, letting out a laugh and touching his face in bewilderment. "God you look so grown up." I say to him in German.

Shaking his head, he does the same to me; cupping my face with his giant hands. "Look whose talking! You were twelve and now...I've missed you so much." He says, pulling me back in for another embrace.

"So have I." I say into his shoulder.

I feel Alex tense up, slowly pulling back from me. I look at his face, finding his his gaze isn't on me, but behind me. Turning around I see Bucky has emerged from around the corner, smiling down at the two of us.

I look back at Alex, his eyes full of hatred and disgust. "Why the hell is he here?"


	34. The Untamed

**PART II: HERE AND NOW**

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

After finding a HYDRA uniform for Alex to wear, the three of us got into the car, beginning to drive to a safe house an hour away.

Convincing him to get into the car wasn't easy. Lena promised that she would give her brother answers as soon as we got somewhere safe.

My god was that hour in the car silent. Lena, knowing where the safe house is, insisted on driving us there. Alex got into the passenger seat, leaving me to sit in the back. He starred at me through the rear view mirror the entire ride. I had never been more pleased to get to the safe house than I was when we arrived.

Alex is the first to exit the car, slamming the door behind him and marching into the house. Lena turns back to look at me, giving me an apologetic look before getting out of the car and following after her brother. Reluctantly, I get out of the car too, knowing I'm about to bare witness to a family quarrel.

Opening the door to the safe house, that is precisely what I find. Alex and Lena are standing in the living room; with him having the most exasperated look on his face, and her trying her best to stay calm. I decide to lean against the wall, watching the arguing ensue. Both of them have this argument in German. I realize through the months Lena and I have spent together, I've never heard her talk in her native tongue.

"How could you? Don't you know who he is? What's he's done—"

"Of course I do, but you don't understand—"

"He is a psychopath! He brought me innocent men and women to kill, did you know that? That's what they made me. I was their executioner. They used my powers to kill innocent people and he's one of them!"

"No he isn't!" Lena yells, making both Alex and I double take. I don't think I've ever heard her yell before. "The things he did wasn't his fault! HYDRA brainwashed him, they tortured him for seventy years!"

"Seventy years? Oh and I guess they gave him skin cream to stay so youthful. I've heard being a hundred does things to a man's natural glow."

Lena lets out a frustrated groan, clenching her fists and making strangling motions with her hands. "You're impossible! If you would just listen to me for two seconds—"

"You know when HYDRA took us, I worried everyday about you. Mama and Papa would stay up at night, fearing the worst, not having any clue where you were. But I was the one who believed that wherever you were, you were alright. I believed that no matter what horrible things they did to you, that you would make it through because you were the strongest person I knew. But what do you do? You fraternize with the enemy and expect me to listen to a damn word you say?"

"And you think I didn't think about you? I worried day and night whether my family was alive. I couldn't stop thinking about all of you being used or tortured. You think you're the only one who has had a crap life? HYDRA used me as a weapon, forced me to do horrible things under the threat they would kill you all. As soon as HYDRA fell I have spent everyday, every god damn hour trying to find you, Mama, and Papa. I haven't had a day of peace in fourteen years, and now that I have you back all you can do is accuse me and him of things you don't understand. Now, you are going to sit down, keep quite, and let Bucky and I explain ourselves and our situation. You will not say another sentence until we are done. I swear on Grandma's grave that if you ever accuse me of betraying my family, I will punch you so hard your jaw will break. So Alex, do me a favor; sit down and shut the fuck up."

Alex stares at his sister in bewilderment, and without another word, sits down on the couch. Lena takes a deep breath, turning to me, forcing a calm expression. "Bucky," She says in English, her voice dangerously low. "Would you please come in here?"

Feeling impressed and slightly proud of her, I walk over towards her. Together we sit down on the couch across from Alex. He does what he's told and keeps quite as I tell him the story of what happened to me. I tell him about my true name, the war, my kidnapping. I tell him about all the horrible things HYDRA made me do, and about the electric machine they used to wipe my memories. Around that point in the story, Lena got up and fished through my backpack, handing Alex my file. He does genuinely read through the information it holds, but his expression doesn't change from being annoyed.

After I'm finished, Lena recounts how we met. She tells her brother how through the many fights, base raids, and nights in motels, we became friends.

She also painfully recounts what happened to her all those years. How Emma Becker created a serum, and how Lena was the only survivor of the test subjects. She explains that that is why Alex and their parents were taken too; because they shared her blood and Becker must have seen that as an opportunity. She talks about how she was trained, how she was tortured, and even goes into detail of some missions even I didn't know about.

When both of us are finished, Alex places my file down, studying the two of us. I feel Lena tense up, eagerly awaiting his reply. After a moment, he finally speaks: "I need some time." he says quietly, getting up off the couch, walking out of the room. I hear the front door open and shut. Looking out the window behind us I see him sitting down on the porch.

Lena lets out a sigh, placing her head in her hands. I place my metal hand on her knee, trying my best to comfort her. "It's a lot to take in, Lena. He'll come around."

She scoffs, leaning back against the cushions. "You don't know my brother. He's always been a hot tempered, arrogant, stubborn pain in my ass. I doubt our explanation and the files are enough to change his mind on you."

"I don't blame him. If I were him, I wouldn't trust me either. He has every right to hate me."

"Don't say that. He just needs time to warm up to you. He'll come to see the good man you are."

I give her a small smile, before I stand up and walk out of the living room myself. I place my foot on the stairs, but before I go any further, I look back at her. "I'm going to give you two some time. I'll be in one of the rooms."

Lena nods her head, making her way towards the door towards her brother.

-

Soroya

Alex is sitting on the porch with his head leaning back, absorbing the sunlight. He doesn't have to turn to know that I'm there.

"They only let me outside once a day," He says, and as I sit down next to him I see that his eyes are shut. "But things have been chaotic since HYDRA disbanded. I don't think I've been outside in months."

Bringing my hand towards him, I hesitantly place my hand over his, waiting for his response. After a moment, Alex turns his hand and clasps his fingers with mine, opening his eyes to look at me.

"You have always been much too trusting of people. You think that there's good in everyone and that mindset is going to get you killed. And with the life you've lived, I'm shocked it hasn't. I heard what you said and I saw the file, but I have no reason to trust him. That isn't going to change."

I sit a little closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. "I know you think it's a flaw. HYDRA wanted to make me distrust people, to see the worst sides of them, to distance myself from everyone in the world. But that isn't me. It never has been. You'd be surprised how wonderful people can be if you give them a chance. But I know you're right, you have no reason to trust him. Give it time, I think Bucky will surprise you. He certainly surprised me."

Alex gives me a look of skepticism, but there's something else lingering there too that I can't quite place. After a moment he leans his head against mine, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"I can't believe how much you've grown...well not in size, but in looks," he says, and I elbow his side, which gets a small laugh from him. "You look just like Mama."

"Really?"

"Yeah...you really do."

Letting out a shaky breath, I ask a question I've dreaded for the past few hours. "I need to know what happened to you, Alex. And to Mama and Papa."

"Soroya—"

"I told you what happened to me, now I need to know what happened to all of you. You owe me that."

I expect him to deny that; to storm off and refuse to talk. But he knows I'm right, and so turning a little more towards me, he tells me what I've needed to hear for fourteen years.

"You didn't come home from school one day. Just as we were about to go look for you, these men in military uniforms came to our house and said you were in trouble. They told us to come with them. As soon as we got into their truck, they hand cuffed us and gagged us. The next thing we knew we were in a dark room, and you were in front of us. I remember a man told you had to do what they said or we would die. I will never forget when they dragged us away from you; how hard I fought to get to you. That night they took each of us to these rooms that looked like hospital rooms. They tied me down and injected me with this strange liquid. I remember how painful it was, but my pain was nothing to the screams of anguish I heard come from Mama and Papa. After a while they put us all in three separate jail cells, and that was at the base we just left. The next morning a man in a general's uniform told us what HYDRA was and their mission to strip the world of chaos and disorder. They said you had abilities that would help them achieve their goals and that now we would help them too. Unlike Mama and Papa, I responded extremely well the the serum. They began to try and teach me how to fight and control my shifting, but I wouldn't listen to them. You remember how horrible of a student I was in school, that was nothing compared to how I was in that base. After a couple years of trying to teach me they gave up, saying I was a wild beast and how I was untamable. That's what the guards and agents at the base nicknamed me: the Untamed.

"Mama and Papa got very sick from the serum. I remember one night this woman broke into their cells with the help of one of the generals there, and took them away. She tried to take me too, but the general said I was too valuable to them. I haven't seen them since. Because they couldn't teach me, they decided to use my abilities as a way of disposing people they found weren't useful or agents who disobeyed. They would use these long electric sticks, hitting me and torturing me until I would change. I have no idea what I change into or what happens, but when I would come back into myself, I would find myself covered in someone else blood. A few months ago I heard one of the guards mention HYDRA had been compromised. That was all the prisoners tried to break out. It was a bloody massacre. Only a few guards and prisoners were left alive. The last few weeks I had been in another form, because I knew that that was my ticket to getting free. Of course I can't control myself in that form, so I had just been stuck in that prison, eating the dead guards. That's when you showed up." He finishes, looking down at his feet, avoiding my eyes.

Feeling a couple tears escape my eyes, I squeeze his hand so tight it hurts. "I'm so sorry. You were taken and kept there because of me."

Alex shakes his head adamantly. "Don't be stupid. You didn't do anything wrong. Is it your fault you were abducted and made into a test monkey? Maybe we were kept there because we have the same DNA, but come on, like I'm gonna sit here and blame you for having good genes."

"Bucky and I found where Becker was hiding out. The woman who experimented on us, who took Mama and Papa. She was taken in by S.H.I.E.L.D a few years ago. I think they took them along with her."

"Where's S.H.I.E.L.D based at?"

"They fell when HYDRA did, but what's left of them is in America."

Alex ponders this for only a few seconds, before squeezing my hand back. "Then let's go get our parents back."


	35. New York Boy

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

"There's enough money here for three plane tickets. Tomorrow we'll wake up at five in the morning and go to the airport. Once we get to America we need to be cautious. It's not only the home of S.H.I.E.L.D, but of the Avengers. They may be out for us even more so than HYDRA is," looking across the kitchen table to Bucky, I ask: "You said their main headquarters is gone. Do you know how many bases throughout the country they have."

"S.H.I.E.L.D hasn't been around as long as HYDRA, so I'd say they have about ten facilities I know of between the east and west coast. Their main base was in Washington D.C., and any prisoners there I have no clue what they did to them."

Alex sits silently next to me, stabbing his potatoes with his fork several times. "So how will we find the different facilities?"

"That's the tricky part," Bucky says, leaning forward. "There's a storage facility in New York for S.H.I.E.L.D I know about. I'm assuming any information from their main base was taken there. I'm sure we can find a layout of the different bases there."

Alex nods, pushing himself out of his chair, looking between Bucky and me. "I'm going to bed. This is my first night in a real bed in fourteen years, so no one wake me up until we leave. If you do, I'll punch you in the face."

As he makes his way up the stairs, I look back at Bucky. "I'm going to start training him. He has reluctantly agreed to it, but it's necessary. I can't have him changing out of nowhere and not being able to control himself. So maybe a few hours a day I'll spend with him on that."

Bucky nods. "It will definitely be entertaining to watch."

I shoot him a glare, but a smirk forms on my lips despite myself. Standing up, I push my chair in, glancing at the stairs. "You should take the room. I'll sleep on the couch."

He shakes his head. "Absolutely not. Take it, you need it more than me."

"This argument could go on all night," I say, shrugging my shoulders. "Why don't we just share the damn bed."

"We've only ever done that out of necessity," he says, taking a pause before adding. "You sure you want to?"

Looking down at the table, I nod my head. "I feel...more comfortable with you there. I don't have as many nightmares."

I hesitate looking back up at him, but when I do he smiles shyly at me. "Neither do I."

Ignoring the heat at my cheeks, I drop my voice lower. "Let's just not let Alex see. I don't feel like explaining this to him."

With another nod, we make our way upstairs, trying to be as silent as possible. Alex took the bedroom on the right, so Bucky and I silently slip into the room on the left.

For a while the two of us just lay there in bed, our breathing being the only sound besides the wind blowing outside.

"We're going to find them, Lena."

I turn to face him, finding his eyes locked on mine. There's a good foot of space between us now, but his gaze makes the distance seem closer.

"I know we will," I say, tucking my arms against my chest. "But I told you what Alex said and everything we read in Becker's house...I'm just worried how I'm going to find them."

"There isn't a point in focusing on that now. Whatever happens you won't have to deal with it alone."

I nod, hoping my worrying will amount to nothing.

-

Bucky

Walking off the plane and into the airport, I feel very strange. The flight itself was fine, and given how used we are to traveling, I'm usually quite numb to the experience. There's just something about New York that's different from the other places.

Lena's hand is clasped with mine, with our hoods and hats covering our faces from any unwanted attention. Alex is wearing a hat also, though it took some convincing to have him put it on.

After a momentary stop at one of the stores for some more water, the three of us make our way towards the taxi area.

"Why do you have to hold hands again?" Alex asks.

"We told you. Bucky and I were active HYDRA agents, so we are wanted people. We need to keep up a facade."

"And you hold hands because?"

"Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable."

"Yeah no kidding. I about threw up when you fell asleep on his shoulder in the plane."

Lena gives him an exasperated look. "You're such a child."

"Says my baby sister."

We are able to get a cab right away, with Alex and I on either side of Lena. As we drive away from the airport, I stare out the window of the cab. I take in the tall skyscrapers, the fast moving people, and the strong smell of gasoline. Even though I've barely been here in the past seven decades, all of these things are extremely familiar. I was born and raised here. In some strange way it does feel like home.

I glance over at Alex, who is starring out the window as well. He looks almost in a trance, probably because he's never been to America before. The sight of the buildings and people seem to overwhelm him. He looks back down at his feet, slightly shaking his head to himself. I glance there too, finding his feet perfectly aligned with the other. I glance up to find his shoulders are set back. He has the same good posture as Lena. Both of the Roberts siblings must have gone to Catholic school. Even though I've known Alex for only twenty four hours, I can't picture him doing well in a private school environment. I'm surprised he wasn't kicked out.

Lena leans down and grabs a book from her bag, one she must have bought in the shop at the airport. She starts flipping towards about a third of the way in, and as she skims the text, she lets out a small laugh. She looks over to me, holding the book up. Looking at the title of the book it says: 'The Life of An American Hero: Captain America.'

I look from the book to her. "They had this at the airport?"

She nods, turning to the page she had looked at previously, holding it up again. The title of the chapter reads: 'Childhood to Battlefield: The Tragic Tale of James Buchanan Barnes.'

Alex looks at the title too, and as Lena begins to read the chapter, he reads it over her shoulder. As curiosity begins to set in, I begin to read as well.

A lot of the information I already knew; my friendship with Steve, my 'dying' during the capturing of Arnim Zola, the Howling Commandos. But it also talks about before the war, before I was a soldier:

"Most of Barnes days were spent with his best friend, Steve Rogers. Barnes also was very invested in his school athletics; participating in his school's track and baseball teams. Barnes was also an excellent student, as well as a devoted son of George and Winnifred Barnes. He was a loving brother to Rebecca, Charlie, and Olivia Barnes."

Lena looks over to me, murmuring. "I didn't know you had three siblings."

"Neither did I." I admit, feeling a sinking in my stomach. Not only did my mother and father have to mourn my supposed death, but so did my three siblings.

Lena looks back down at the book, pointing to a picture in the corner of the page: it's of me and the other howling commandos. I'm on Steve's left, with the other boys gathered around us. I have a wide smile on my face, with my gun in my hand and my clothes and stature being the image of a perfect soldier.

"You look so different." She says leaning forward more to see my face clearer.

"Well he can't help what time does to a man. It was seven decades ago after all." Alex comments, leaning back in his seat.

Lena ignores him, handing the book over to me. "I thought you might want it."

Giving her a brief smile, I take the book and place it in my backpack. "Thanks, Lena."

Alex shakes his head, looking between the two of us. "What's this 'Bucky' and 'Lena' business."

"Back in the 40's all his family and friends called him 'Bucky' because his middle name is 'Buchanan'. So I wanted a nickname from my middle name and we came up with 'Lena'."

"Are we gonna trade secrets and braid each other's hair too?"

"How much longer until we get to the storage facility?" Lena asks. Her tone tells me she's about two seconds away from strangling her brother.

"Shouldn't be more than fifteen more minutes. Do you guys remember the plan?"

Both of the siblings nod their heads, with Lena leaning forward to ask the taxi driver: "Do you mind turning on the radio please?"

The woman nods her head, pressing the nob. Some song I'm not familiar with comes on. Lena lets out a moan while Alex's face lights up.

"Oh, yes. Yes! Turn it up louder!" He says, and the taxi driver obliges. Alex begins bobbing his head, quietly singing along to the lyrics.

Lena leans closer to me, muttering in annoyance: "Alex doesn't have the same taste in music me and my parents have. He won't listen to anything except music from the 80's and 90's. He despises anything before the time he was born."

"What song is this?" I ask.

"It's 'Mony Mony' by Billy Idol. It's a form of torture I was subjected to for years."

Alex rolls his eyes at his sister. "It's not my fault you have no taste."

Looking out of the window, I see the giant buildings begin to grow smaller. I see the over crowded population and gasoline smell shrink. Part of me feels a magnetic pull to go back. It's like a piece of me is being left behind in a place I can't even remember belonging to. I heard an expression in the airport, and it appears to be true: you can take the boy out of New York, but you can't take New York out of the boy.


	36. Your Humanity

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"Why are you leaving me here?" Alex asks the two of us as we load our guns.

Lena gives her brother a slightly sympathetic look. "We are going into a government-owned facility. Alex, you can't shoot, can't fight, and you can't control your shifting. Until you can do all those things, you are being put on the bench."

"Those shooting and shifting lessons are looking much more appealing now." He says with a glare towards his sister.

Lena pats her brother's cheek. "That's the spirit. Just stay here and keep watch."

Lena gestures with her head for us to leave. As we walk towards the storage facility, I look back and see Alex sit down on the grass, his arms crossed over his chest.

Lena takes in a deep breath through her nose before looking over to me. "There aren't many people here. I can smell a few, maybe eight outside of the actual structure. If there's anyone inside, I don't know, which tells me the walls in this place are very thick.

As we make it to the side of the facility, I knock my knuckles against the wall, and she's right; there's no way I can break through it. Lena looks over the corner for a moment and says: "Two guards guard the entrance, and there doesn't seem to be a way to open it from the outside."

Looking around the wall, I get an idea as I look up towards the roof. Pointing to the air vent, I ask: "If you fly up there and get inside, I can get the guards while you open the door."

"That will have people on our tails."

"Well, then I think we should hurry up."

Soroya nods, handing me over her gun. Stretching her arms out and slightly crouching, she jumps up into the air. Her clothes drop to the ground, and a small bird flutters up to the vent, slipping comfortably inside. As I turn the corner, I run-up to the guard closest to me, using the butt of Lena's gun to hit him in the head, then flinging him back against the door. I turn to the other guard, kicking his knee and punching him in the head with his gun as well.

I hear a beeping noise, and the door slowly opens, revealing a black-feathered bird, flapping its wings and landing on my shoulder. "I left your clothes over there. You change, and I'll have a look around. Hurry, though." I say, watching as the bird chirps quietly before flying off my shoulder and around the corner.

Walking through the doors, I find several knocked out guards lying about, with bite marks in their legs and shoulders. She must have changed into a more aggressive form before turning back into the bird.

The storage facility is a room with rows of wooden crates, all with labels in giant white letters on each side. I start to read the labels down the first row, finding nothing of use: extra wires, alien weapons, Stark Industry items, and some computers they salvaged from different bases.

When I walk down the next row, I see Lena walk through the door, and as she sees me, she makes her way to the third row.

As I'm looking through this next row, I find a crate labeled: 'Captain America.' I grab hold of it and lift the top off, finding several files and pictures. Lifting one of the photos, I see that it's one of Steve in the forties, shaking hands with Howard Stark. I try to block out Stark's face, not wanting to trigger that horrible day to resurface in my mind.

I find a small rolled-up paper, and when I unroll it, I see that it's a little poster: showing Steve in his suit, saluting with large red, white, and blue text saying 'Join the United States Army.'

A memory floods my eyes, and it's one I remember having on the plane on my way to Mongolia, but back then, it wasn't clear. Steve, a tiny version of him, looks bruised and bloody, wiping his nose and straightening himself up. He looks me up and down, asking: 'Did you get your orders?' I nod my head, a look of pride on my face as I say: '107th: Sargent James Barnes shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.' Steve looks slightly disappointed, but I wrap my arm around his shoulders and lead him out of the alleyway we had been talking in.

Coming back into reality, I put the small poster in my jacket. Taking in a deep breath, I put the box back in its place, continuing in the search.

"Bucky, over here!" I hear Lena shout. I find her in the fifth row, kneeling in front of a box that says: New York Facility.

The box has several files in it, including a blueprint of the base. I grab hold of that and fold it up, stuffing it in my jacket as well. Lena has opened up a few of the files, pocketing some of the papers and tossing others.

Our heads jerk towards voices coming from a back entrance. Packing up the box, we run towards the doors; hearing footsteps grow louder from behind us.

Making it to the field surrounding the facility, I find it's a good thing both of us run exceptionally fast, because the agents are falling far behind us. We find Alex pacing several yards away, but he sees our sprinting and grows a frantic look on his face.

When we reach him, we both grab onto his arm, pulling him along with us. Lena's power to use her animal abilities in human form applies to Alex as well, because he's able to keep at a steady pace with us. "What happened?"

"We got the layout of one other S.H.I.E.L.D base, but they sent more guards in before we could look at any others," Lena explains.

"I don't get it; you guys didn't have this problem when raiding HYDRA bases. They didn't have guards on your backs moments after entering a base."

"Because now that HYDRA is gone, the remaining members are hiding out and trying not to get killed. Any remaining S.H.I.E.L.D agents are now probably working for the Avengers."

"If we run into one of them, we're fucked," Alex admits, pointing to a car parked a block away.

"Then let's hope we don't," Lena says, letting out a sigh of relief as she sees the car as well. When we reach it, I hop into the driver's seat. Hot wiring the vehicle as quickly as I can, I hear Alex making impatient noises from behind me, and I about punch him.

The engine roars to life, and I pull out of the street, driving away from the storage facility, with exasperated S.H.I.E.L.D guards missing us by a hair.

-

Soroya

"Alex," I say, trying to get his attention. He sighs, nodding his head and focusing on me.

We are in an abandoned warehouse in upstate New York, where Alex and I are doing our first shifting lesson. Bucky is sitting on the floor, looking over the documents and blueprints we managed to get from the storage facility, occasionally glancing up at the two of us.

"How long exactly did it take you to control your shifting?"

"Once we figured out a way to do it, it took probably a year and a half. I practiced every day with a trainer for three hours."

"You had a trainer?"

"A man who worked for Dr. Becker," I say rather stiffly, not wanting to discuss Julian. "But, Bucky was technically also responsible for me controlling my shifting."

Alex turns to Bucky. "You had met before?"

Bucky looks up from the paper he was reading, nodding his head. "I don't remember that, though."

"Then, shouldn't you be helping me?"

Bucky glances from Alex to me, shaking his head. "The way I trained her was by aggravating her and having her fight against her urge to shift because she had a problem shifting when she was upset. That's what she told me I did, so since she remembers the lessons, I'll leave the teaching to her."

Alex groans, turning back to his sister. "So you're gonna piss me off and hope I don't go feral on you?"

"No, that comes later. First, you need to learn to control yourself in your other form, then you will learn to control your shifting," I say, moving an old table lying on its side, making more room for us to work. "Now, the trick to keeping control in animal form is holding onto your humanity."

"My humanity?"

"Remember how I got you to shift back in your base? I talked to you about your life, your personality, your family. When you shift, this primitive mindset wants to take over, and given how painful shifting is, you let it. But you need to fight against it, the way you do that is holding onto yourself as you shift."

I glance over at Bucky, and he is staring at me with an odd expression. I realize I had never told him about how shifting feels. I promise myself I'll explain it to him later, but for now, my focus is on Alex.

Alex seems to understand what I'm saying, so I continue. "Now, how many forms did HYDRA make you turn into?"

"I only think I've ever turned into a wolf, maybe a bear and a lion as well."

"Because they probably would aggravate you to get you to turn, right?"

"Using staffs and metal batons, yes."

Feeling a wave of deep anger and pain go through me, I try not to think of those beatings my brother endured. "Aggressive emotions will make you shift into a predator, so I guess we'll work on shifting into different animals as well. Something you should know is that the more you shift into an animal, the more of that animal's characteristics you get. Since you've changed into a wolf constantly for sixteen years, you should have a strong smell, hearing, strength, and speed."

Alex nods. "Sounds about right."

"Let's start. Right now, I want you to think about our house in Hamburg. I want you to picture it in as vivid detail as you can; think of the floral wallpaper in the living room, of the white-painted windowpanes, of the ugly yellow curtains Mama never got rid of."

Alex takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes. A few moments go by before I add: "Now I want you to crouch down to the ground, leaning on your hands and knees."

Alex does as I say, his eyes still closed. I begin to walk circles around him, keeping my eyes on him at all times. "Do you feel the urge to shift rise in you?"

"Yes."

"I want you to continue to focus on details of the house, but now bring us into the picture; think of Mama and Papa watching their old movies, think of the living room, think of me practicing my dancing in my room, think of us playing with your toy trains in the basement. But as you focus on that, I want you to let the urge overtake you, but don't let it take over your mind."

Slowly, Alex disappears, and a beautiful white wolf sits in his place. Smiling, I nod to my brother in encouragement. "Alright, now you don't look very aggressive right now, so howl once if you understand me."

Alex doesn't howl; he cocks his wolf head to the side.

Nodding my head to myself, I kneel to his level, resting my arms on my bent knees. "Alexander Thomas Roberts, you were born in Hamburg, Germany. Your mother is Anika Roberts, your father is Joseph Roberts, and I am your sister, Soroya Roberts."

The wolf lays down on the ground, his head still tilted in my direction.

"You love trains. You claim you hate 70's music, but I know that's a lie. You have had a crush on Madonna since you were 6, you told me you hated E.T. because you thought the story was stupid, but in reality, you were scared of the alien."

Not even a blink.

"You hate celery. You watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off every day for a month when you were twelve. When I was little, you always stole my teddy bear and would force it to be your train conductor."

Getting exasperated, I continue. "You told all of us when you were older you wanted to move to America, you hate cats, you can't drink milk unless there is chocolate syrup in it, and you think the sound of a blender is relaxing."

The wolf doesn't budge, and I stare at him for a moment, finding no sign of my brother in those eyes.

Placing my hands on my hips, I try to think of something else to get him to shift back. An idea pops into my head, but it's one I won't enjoy and something he'll hold over my head for days.

Gritting my teeth, knowing I'll regret this, I clear my throat, beginning to sing. "Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me. I think they're ok. If they don't give me proper credit, I just walk away," I begin singing, feeling Bucky and the wolf's gaze on me. Out of embarrassment, I can't meet either of their eyes. "They can beg, and they can plead, but they can't see the light. 'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash is always Mister Right."

I glance up, and the wolf is beginning to sit upright, and the color of his eyes are returning to Alex's. So, I push through and get to the chorus. "'Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl. You know that we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

The wolf fades away, and Alex returns, busting out in full-blown laughter. I stand back up, glaring at my brother. I pick up Alex's clothes off the floor and chuck them at him. I turn my attention to Bucky as Alex changes, and I find him grinning at me. I send my glare in his direction. "Don't you start, too."

"I just find it interesting that you knew the words to one of his kind of songs."

I shrug. "He listened to Madonna all the time, and my room was next to his. It's hard not to listen after a while."

"Whatever you say," Bucky says, earning him an elbow in the ribs once I make my way over to him, sitting next to him on the floor.

I look back at Alex. "Get your clothes back on, then come over here. We're done for today."

Once Alex is dressed, he sits across from Bucky and me, a smug look on his face. I begin to look over the documents with Bucky, and as I do so, Alex mutters mockingly, "You like Madonna."

"I am a trained assassin. Don't test me." I warn my brother, but he brushes this threat off, humming the rest of 'Material Girl' as he looks over the blueprint to the D.C. base.


	37. Truths And Secrets

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

"Do you think he purposefully didn't shift back?" Bucky asks me, propping himself up on his elbow.

I have been keeping watch for the past few hours, and by the tone of his voice I think he's been awake the whole time. "I think it was a mixture of him messing with me and him not being able to shift back."

Bucky smirks, but it fades quickly and his face grows serious. "Why didn't you tell me it hurts when you shift?"

Letting out a sigh, I shrug my shoulders. "It isn't important."

"Of course it is. There are so many moments that I could have done more or done things differently and you didn't have to—"

"Bucky stop that! Don't you dare blame yourself. My ability is what keeps all of us safe, it's how I've stayed alive. It is worth it, I promise, and me shifting is in no way your fault."

Bucky closes his eyes, shaking his head to himself. He stares down at the floor, asking quietly: "How much does it hurt?"

"Not as much as it used to. It used to feel like every bone in my body was breaking and spreading, because technically that is what happens. Now it feels more like someone stretching my skin. After I shift back I feel a little sore but nothing I can't handle."

Bucky still looks uneasy, so I stand up and walk over towards him. He watches me as I lay down next to him, propping myself on my elbow as well. "I appreciate your worrying, but really you don't have to."

His blue eyes seem to shine in the moonlight streaming in from the broken windows. It's almost impossible not to stare at them. "When you were trying to talk Alex back, you said you used to dance all the time. Tell me about that." He says, laying back down on the ground, his eyes starring up at the ceiling.

Smiling to myself, I lay down as well, starring up at the crumbling roof too, my shoulder gently pressed against his. "You remember I told you my mother studied here in America and was introduced to Audrey Hepburn movies?"

"Mhm."

"Well my grandparents were the ones who made her fall in love with their time period in the first place. They were the ones that introduced her to Fred Astaire. There was a drive in theater in Munich where they showed the movie Top Hat', and that's where she met my father. They instantly bonded over their love of the time period, and from then one, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies became their thing. They then passed that love down to me. I remember when I was five, I decided I wanted to do that for a living. I wanted to dance just like Ginger Rogers did; with her beautifully curled hair and long flowing dresses," I say, forgetting that I'm in an abandoned building, forgetting that I'm on the run or that I'm about to raid a government facility tomorrow. It, for a moment almost, feels like I'm back in my home, with my parents by my side.

"I asked my parents if I could take dancing lessons. And so every Tuesday until I was taken I went to the local dance studio and took tap dancing lessons. God I loved those classes. Every other day of the week I would practice in my room; tapping to a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers CD. Even during recess at school I would spend it tap dancing. Other kids would make fun of me, but I didn't care, because I loved it far too much."

Feeling an odd sense of nostalgia, I return back to reality, turning my head to the side to look at Bucky. He is no longer looking at the ceiling. His eyes seem slightly glazed over as he stares at me, like my story had transported him back in time to witness it. There's something more lingering in his eyes, and that lingering stare feels like a magnetic pull that seems impossible to fight against.

However, Alex lets out a snore, and it makes me jump in my skin. Glancing over to my brother I internally curse at him. When I look back to Bucky, he has turned into his side, still facing me, with his arms crossed over his chest like usual. "If you want to get some sleep you can, I'll be up for a while." He says.

I nod, turning onto my side so my back is to him. I feel his eyes still on me, but it doesn't make me feel uncomfortable or self conscious, in fact it kind of makes me feel calm. So calm in fact, I find it easier than ever to drift off to sleep, despite the dirty stone floor beneath me.

-

Bucky

"So that's it huh?" Alex asks, eyeing the base from where we hide in the forest. This S.H.I.E.L.D base is in upstate New York, so we are completely surrounded by the trees; providing great cover.

I look up from the blue print and nod. Alex places his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "You'd think they'd at least put a little color in the design. It looks like a funeral home."

Lena looks up at her brother. "Do you have to criticize everything you see?"

"Do you have to criticize me for criticizing everything I see?"

Letting out a deep breath, Lena forces her attention back to the situation at hand. Scanning over the plans in front of us, she shakes her head. "I'm gonna go in alone."

That sparks both Alex and my attention. "What the hell do you mean?" Her brother asks.

"This is an active S.H.I.E.L.D base, it's a whole new ball game. Alex can't go in obviously, and Bucky you can't risk being caught. If you were caught in a HYDRA base you could shoot and run, but if you do that here then the entire American government and the Avengers will be on you within minutes. I can sneak in and not get caught."

"It's too dangerous." I protest.

She tilts her head. "You know I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but it's too dangerous for anyone to go in alone. You'll need backup."

"If I do I'll let you know." She says, stripping off her pants and t-shirt. Alex raises his eyebrows, instantly turning away, but I keep my eyes locked on hers.

"How will you let me know?" I ask, using all my energy to keep my eyes on her face.

She shrugs, extending her arms out and crouching. "I'll shout." She says, jumping in the air and flapping towards the base as a small bird.

Alex watches her fly away, a look of unease on his face. Once Lena is out of sight, he walks up to the tree next to me, sitting down and leaning against it. I continue to study the blueprint, finding anything that might help in case I need to break in to help Lena. I feel Alex's gaze on me however, so I glance over at him.

"I don't get you." Alex says; his arms crossed over his chest, his ankle crossed over the other, and his eyes studying me.

I turn my body to face him, raising my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I heard what Soroya told me. She said you two met at a base in Mongolia and agreed to work together, the whole two guns are better than one thing. But I don't get it."

"What is there to 'get'? That's what happened."

"No one ever does anything without getting something in return, especially with your profession. You're the Winter Soldier. You don't need help, you very well could have done this on your own. So, I say again, I don't get why you are with my sister. Are you hoping to get some form of reward from her? She's the Savage, so they're a lot of people who would love to get their hands on her. Or are you one of those people? You want to get your hands on my sister? Maybe get in her pants too while you're at it?"

I let out a scoff, feeling my blood boil in annoyance. "You really are a prick, you know that?"

"It's part of my natural charm. Now tell me, what's in it for you?"

Even though I'm angry, I know if I were in his position I wouldn't trust me either. I know if my sister were in league with someone like me I would assume the worst about them too. So taking a deep breath, I try to keep my voice calm.

"I may be skilled and strong, but even I can't take down all of Europe's HYDRA bases by myself. It isn't a lie that I thought having an extra gun would help. But it was more than that," I take a pause, knowing this will be the first time I've admitted this out loud. "In the seventy years I've been in HYDRA, they always told me how love was the enemy, and that compassion and kindness were for the weak. When I left, and I started to remember who I was, there was this little boy I met at an airport. He smiled at me, he talked to me like I was a person and not a monster. He was the first person to do that in seven decades. I knew I wanted to prove that I wasn't the monster that everyone saw me as, that I was worth being smiled at like that. When I met Lena, she hated me. Rightfully so, but I thought if she helped me remember who I am, if she saw who I used to be and who I could be again, that I could have someone look at me without hostility. I thought maybe I could have someone smile at me like that boy did."

Alex has listened to me intently, and his gaze has softened slightly, but not fully. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it? No sarcastic remark or comment?"

Alex shakes his head. "No, I believe what you said is true, but even still, I know that's not all."

"What are you talking about?"

"You care about her. I'm not stupid, I can see it, but you care about her much more than you let on."

I roll my eyes, refocusing my attention on the blueprint in front of me. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do, and so does she. You two are idiots; thinking you're two companions traveling the world like you're in some buddy road trip movie. In reality you're just dancing around each other, completely ignorant."

Feeling heat rush to my cheeks, I stare at Alex in complete shock. "You have no idea—"

"Yes, I do," He says, a smug smile growing on his face, but it quickly fades, becoming more serious. "I just hope when you two finally cut the bullshit it doesn't end with her getting hurt."

"I would never hurt her." I say, meaning it with every bone in my body.

"Of course you will, because you're never going to be good enough for her." He says, the most serious I've ever seen him.

Before I can say anything else, I hear a loud noise come from beyond the tree-line. Alex and I both look to see a bird flapping back towards us. As the bird lands, both of us turn away from her. I hear grass crunching beneath her now human feet as she walks over to her bag to change. After a few minutes, she lets out a sigh, saying: "You can turn around now."

We both do, standing up to assess whether she is alright.

"What happened?" Alex asks, glancing between his sister and the base.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, looking her over for any injuries.

"I'm fine, but listen to me," She says looking between us. "I easily got inside and I found the records room, but there were people in there shredding their files. I quickly shifted into a mouse and I hid behind a computer. I listened to the two men talking, and they said they had no use for the files anymore, since all of HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D's files are on the internet."

I blink twice. "Come again?"

"Apparently, Black Widow released both organization's information; files, data, documents, blue prints, mission reports. They're all on the internet. So, S.H.I.E.L.D didn't just fall because they found out HYDRA grew within them and their base was destroyed. HYDRA didn't fall just because their plan was ruined and they were exposed to the world; they fell because all of their secrets had been leaked."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I release a sigh. "So basically you're telling me, that the six weeks we've spent going around Asia and Europe trying to find information on us, that...that we could have just gone on the internet and found it all out."

Lena nods her head, and I can tell this bothers her as much as it bothers me.

"So in order to find Mama and Papa, all we have to do is go on the internet and search for them?" Alex asks.

"It appears so."

I glance back at the base, letting out a small groan. "Let's get out of here, then we'll discuss this."

"What's there to discuss?" Alex asks, his voice growing angry. "It takes two seconds to type it on the keyboard and then we can find our parents."

"It takes two seconds of typing for the government to know where we are," I say, my anger from our conversation before still fresh. But with a glance at Lena, I try to keep my voice calm. "Let's get somewhere safe. We have a lot to talk about."


	38. Risk

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Now in a run-down motel room, the three of us try to weigh our options. Lena is sitting on the edge of the bed; staring at her brother who is currently pacing the length of the room. I am leaning against the wall, my arms crossed, glancing between the two of them.

"First things first, if we are to go online and search, where would we do that?" Lena asks after several moments of silence.

"It would have to be somewhere public," I say.

"Aren't we trying to hide out and not be seen?"

"Yes, but going on any form of technology allows S.H.I.E.L.D to trace the user. It's better if we're in a public place. That way we can disappear and escape before they have a chance to get to us."

"Is there a mall nearby?" Lena asks.

"It's New York, of course, there's a mall. That's the least of our worries."

"But is it worth the risk?" Lena wonders aloud. She tucks her hair behind her ear and then drops her hand back on her lap. "We know S.H.I.E.L.D took our parents, so if they're alive, then they're here. I can't see them being in Europe, and they aren't in Asia. They were taken with Becker, so perhaps they're in the same place she is. If we go about this the old fashion way, we'd have to track her down first. Once we find her location, then maybe we would find Mama and Papa. If she's dead or our parents aren't there, then we'd be back where we started. If we go to a mall, search the web, and find out what happened to them, then we can head straight there and leave before S.H.I.E.L.D has a chance to get us. So, I think it's worth the risk."

Alex nods his head to his sister, quitting his pacing. "I agree."

Both of the Roberts siblings look to me, and it's only now I realize how alike they look; their hands both resting on their hips and their brown eyes filled with the same strength and dedication. I nod my head to them, saying: "First thing tomorrow, we'll find a mall."

Lena nods, looking at the clock on the wall. "It's getting late. We should get some sleep if we want to get up early."

I glance from her to the bed. "You get some sleep. You, too, Alex, I'll take the first watch."

Alex shakes his head. "I'm not tired. I'll do it. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Bringing my gun from my belt, I hand it over to him, making sure to put the safety on and then put safety off, showing him how it works. "Aim and squeeze, alright?"

He nods, sitting down on the floor with his back to the wall, his body facing the door. Lena and I stare at the bed rather awkwardly, and I find that my glance falls onto Alex, who now realizes what's passing through our minds. He begins to shake his head.

"If you get in that bed, Barnes, I will get medieval on your ass," Alex says, not a sarcastic note in his voice. "Sleep on the damn floor."

Taking one of the pillows off the bed, I share a look with Lena before placing it on the floor next to the window. Lena throws me a blanket, and I take it gratefully. As I lay down, I promise myself that one of these days, I will punch Alex so hard in the face it knocks that smug smile off his mouth.

"You don't have to be an overprotective brother," Lena says with an annoyed tone to her brother. "I am a grown woman. I can handle myself."

"I will never not be protective of you, and that won't matter if you're twenty six or eighty six. I trust you," He says, pointing his head towards me. "It's him I don't trust, especially with you."

Lena lets out a sigh, getting under the covers of the bed and lying down. "Good night Bucky. Alex, please wake me up when you get tired. Try not to shoot Bucky while he sleeps."

Alex smiles at me, smug as ever. "I make no promises."

Containing my anger and rolling my eyes, I turn over onto my side and try to get some sleep, hoping as well that Alex doesn't shoot me in my sleep.

-

Soroya

Tightening my ponytail, I place my hat back on, watching as Alex looks around in wonder.

"Alex, stay close and stop looking up so much. There are cameras."

He doesn't listen to me but keeps a better pace with Bucky and me. I don't blame him for wanting to stare at the spectacle around us. Alex and I went to stores and malls as children, but in Germany, it isn't as extravagant as this. But even if I had been to a mall here in 2000, I know it would look far inferior to what it looks like today.

We looked at a map when we entered the mall; it said the computer store called 'Microsoft' is just past the food court. As we make our way there, we pass by several clothing departments. I gawk at these clothes in amazement, because not only are they very colorful and loud, but very revealing. I would have gotten expelled for wearing these clothes back in school. Some are rather cute though, especially the clothes I see in the store 'American Eagle'. I see Alex taking an interest in the displays of a store called 'Aéropostale.' I physically have to drag him away.

Something that particularly catches my eye is the bookstore, wherein the display in the window features not one, but seven Harry Potter books. Feeling shock and excitement go through me, I look to Alex, pointing at the display. "There are seven Harry Potter books! They came out with more!"

Amazement glosses over his face. "Wasn't there only one before we were taken?"

I nod. "I think so, I only read the first one. And now there's seven!"

I feel somewhat put out as we are forced to pass by it, but my spirits are raised again as Alex points to a couple of stores down. It's a movie store, where a poster is in the display saying that all eight Harry Potter movies come in a box set.

"I swear one of these days I'm buying each movie and book," I promise myself, and I feel Alex nod in agreement.

"I hope Dumbledore is still alive," Alex says hopefully as we walk past the store. "He was always my favorite."

We make into the Microsoft store, where I find the entire store is filled with computers, tablets, and phones. I had already been exposed to the updated technology while on missions, but Alex is still trapped in the technology of 2000. He looks like he may pass out as he looks at the different devices. He seems slightly overwhelmed, but not in a bad way. He looks like when you wake up Christmas morning as a child and have twenty new toys to play with.

I walk over towards one of the displayed computers and I get to work. Alex and Bucky stand on either side of me, watching as I click onto Google and search: 'S.H.I.E.L.D files.'

I remember my instructor in HYDRA who taught me how to hack, Alexa James. She must have been in HYDRA for fifty years by the time I was forced in. I remember she wasn't very talkative, and our lessons lasted two hours a day at most. She died when I was sixteen, but I was grateful for her instructions now, despite how unpleasant she was.

Several links pop onto the screen, but I scroll down until I find one that takes me to a database, listing each file in alphabetical order. I scroll down to 'b' and see 'Becker' in bold letters. Clicking on the record, I find it takes me to a separate browser; no doubt, this file is on the dark web. When I open up the file, it asks for an encryption code. Cursing internally, I go back onto Google and search for it.

"How much more time?"

"Maybe eight more minutes. Why?"

"I just don't like this," Bucky says, continuing to glance over his shoulder.

"I'm going as fast as I can," I say, smiling as I find a link to the encryption code. Going back to the other browser, I copy and paste the code in. A picture of Becker appears, and she isn't at all how I would have pictured her: she's much younger than I thought, probably in her forties. She has light brown hair and golden skin, her dark brown eyes looking as cold and calculating as I would have expected.

I scroll through her file, finding that she was indeed taken into S.H.I.E.L.D custody and was kept in a high-security prison for three years. This was before she tried to escape and was shot on sight. On the page that talks about her capture, it mentions that two people, a man, and woman both in their late forties, were being held captive by her. It says the two were taken in with her, and upon finding that they had been experimented on, they were sent to a facility for treatment in Pennsylvania.

I go back onto Google and search for S.H.I.E.L.D facilities in Pennsylvania, where it details that dangerous individuals or individuals with dangerous abilities were sent there. I click on the facility and search through its records, to find that as of six months ago, as of when S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA fell, Anika and Joseph Roberts were held at that facility.

Feeling relief flow throughout my whole body, I click back to the building and search around for something to write with. Alex runs up to the cashier asking for one, and moments later provides me with a pen and a sticky note. I write down the location and shut down each browser.

Alex looks at me with anxiety and anticipation. "So, what'd you find?"

"As of six months ago, Mama and Papa were held in a facility in Pennsylvania. I have the address." I say, feeling a wide smile grow on my face. Alex wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly, a true smile finally showing on his face.

Turning to Bucky, he gives me a large smile too, grabbing onto me with his non metal hand. I clasp my fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his touch radiate to every part of my body.

"Let's go get them." He says, squeezing my hand.

I squeeze back, nodding my head. "Let's go get them." I agree.


	39. A Long Car Ride

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

The facility where my parents supposedly are is in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, which is three and a half hour drive from New York.

This long car ride wouldn't usually make me anxious, but it means Alex, Bucky, and I will be captive together for three and a half hours. I was worried Alex would pick a fight with Bucky. The last thing I want is for both of them to tear at each other's throats.

After the first hour of driving, we stopped for gas at a 7/11. Bucky filled the car up while I went to the restroom. I left Alex to his own devices, and during this time he bought fifty dollars worth of Snowballs, KitKats, and Skittles. When he walked out of the gas station with his arms filled with junk food, Bucky and I both glared at him. He simply threw his stash in the back of the car with him and responded with: "It's part of the American experience."

With Bucky and I traveling together, the radio wasn't a problem. With Alex however, he became cranky around the fourth Andrew Sisters song we listened to. We then agreed that every three songs we will switch to the other's channel. But after listening to three Journey songs in a row I have come regret this arrangement. As much as I hated listening to Alex's 80's and 90's music, Bucky looks like his ears might bleed if he has to listen anymore. When two hours of our car ride came around, and the Beastie Boys song 'Fight For Your Right' came on, Bucky leaned over towards me, asking with an incredulous look in his eyes: "This is the kind of music you grew up with?"

I nod my head, feeling just as disappointed as he does. "This song came out the year Alex was born. Thank god my parents had good taste or else I would have been a hopeless case." Alex shoots me a glare after this comment.

Our three songs are up next. The song that plays is The Beatles: 'Twist and Shout' which is one of my favorites. Alex begins to sing along to the song enthusiastically, and I turn in my seat, giving Alex a smug look. "And you say you hate 60's music."

"I do hate 60's music, but their last album came out in the 70's, so the jokes on you. Besides, this song was in Ferris Bueller."

Bucky, who has seemed to enjoy the song as well, looks over at me curiously. "What's a Ferris Bueller?"

"It's a movie from the 80's. It's about a boy who skips school for the day and goes on a crazy adventure with his friends. It's Alex's favorite movie, and this song is in one of the scenes."

Alex nods, a smile on his face. "It's only in the best scene in the movie."

"I know you hate the music of your time," Bucky begins, glancing between me and the road. "but do you hate the movies too?"

I shake my head adamantly. "No, no I love movies of all decades. My favorite movie is from the 80's."

Alex leans forward, turning the knob of the radio up. "While on the subject of the 80's; it's my turn."

Preparing myself for more torture, I groan as the channel switches to 'All Out 80's'. I listen to the song that starts to play, and I feel myself pause. An odd sense of familiarity flows through me, followed by excitement as I realize what song this is. I look back at Alex, who says with a smile. "Speaking of your favorite movie."

I smile at myself, feeling my chest grow rather tight. I haven't heard this song in fourteen years. Thinking back, I think the last time I watched the movie was a few days before I was taken.

"What movie?" Bucky asks me, a small smile on his face as he sees my reaction.

"Dirty Dancing. It's about a woman named Baby who falls in love with a dance instructor after becoming his dance partner at a summer lodge."

Bucky knits his brows. "Who names their child 'baby'?"

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. "Okay well 'baby' is a nickname, but that's what everyone calls her," I explain. "Her real name is Francis."

Alex taps on my seat. "Turn it up."

I oblige him, turning the knob up until my seat vibrates from the volume of the song.

"With my body and soul, I want you more than you'll ever know." I sing, bobbing my head.

"So we'll just let it go, don't be afraid to lose control, no." Alex sings, making his voice deep to match Bill Medley, which makes me chuckle again.

"Yes, I know what's on your mind when you say  
'Stay with me tonight'."

"And remember!"

"You're the one thing I can't get enough of."

"So I tell you something."

The two of us turn towards each other, and in unison, practically shout the chorus: "This could be love! Because I've had the time of my life! No, I never felt this way before! Yes I swear, it's the truth and I owe it all to you! 'Cause I've had the time of my life and I've searched through every open door till I found the truth and I owe it all to you!"

As the trumpet solo comes on, the two of us break into laughter, no doubt remembering the times when we would watch this with Mama and Papa. I remember Papa used to mimic Bill Medley's voice as well, and would pick me up to do the famous lift. I feel a little sad thinking about it, but I try enjoy this moment while it lasts, not wanting it to be ruined by sadness.

When the lyrics come back on, I catch Bucky's eye, and he is starring at me with the softest smile. I don't think I've ever seen him look at me like that, and it makes my heart rate quicken. There's almost a wonderment in his eyes, but before I can study him any further, Alex sings directly in my ear, making me jump.

I try to refocus my attention on the song as the last verse comes on, but it's very difficult. I feel almost a magnetic pull to look back at him. Once the song ends, I feel unusually warm. I touch my cheeks, feeling embarrassed at how undoubtedly red they are. I avoid looking at Alex and especially at Bucky. For the first time in ever, I am thankful that 'Material Girl' comes onto the radio.

A smug smile grows on Alex's face. "Oh look, it's you're favorite song."

I glare at him. "I should have let you stay a wolf."

Bucky turns the volume up slightly, listening for a few seconds before asking: "This is the song you sang to him?"

I nod and he shakes his head, giving me a look of reassurance. "Your voice is way better than hers. She sounds like a child."

Alex double takes. "How dare you talk about Madonna like that? You're the one who likes Bing Crosby: the man whose singing sounds like he's constantly yawning."

"Bing Crosby doesn't sound like he's yawning," I say, looking between the two fuming men, then turning around to specifically glare at my brother. "And for the record, I admit I don't hate Madonna, but she certainly isn't my favorite. If I'm going to admit to liking any singer from the 80's it will be Freddie Mercury."

Alex looks smug, but I crush his triumphant mood by adding: "Don't celebrate prematurely. You owned up to liking The Beatles, and don't even get me started on the Doris Day CD I found in your room when you were eleven."

Alex looks away from me, crossing his arms. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Turning back in my seat, I feel satisfied at having won the argument. Turning up the knob, I am happy the Madonna song is over. The next song to play is 'Somebody to Love' by Queen, and I sit there genuinely enjoying the sound of Freddie Mercury's angelic voice.

Looking over to Bucky, I see that he seems to really enjoy it, more so than the other songs that have played. He even begins to tap his metal hand against the wheel. It makes me happy to see him enjoying something new. I know how weird it was for me to be exposed to things I've missed only in the last fourteen years. He has to catch up on the last seventy.

As much as Bucky liking a Queen song kind of feels like a win for Alex, I'm just glad for once he's enjoying himself. When the song ends I sift through the glove compartment of this person's stolen car, and to my delight I find a CD for Queen. Admitting defeat, and earning a look of triumph from Alex, I put the disc in. The first song that plays is 'Under Pressure'. While the boys listen in pure enjoyment to the song, I am reminded of the current situation we are in, feeling irony at the song choice.

I couldn't afford to let doubts and fear over take me, not when we're so close. I need to stay positive. For right now, I want to enjoy myself with my brother and friend. I want to forget that we are on a rescue mission; one that could go very well, ending in our happiness, or really bad, ending in our demise.


	40. The Prison

_**POV:** _   
**Soroya**

"I think he's the one." I think aloud, my eyes glued to the binoculars we stole, starring at the agent. He is once again walking through the southeast exit at exactly 11:15 in the morning.

Bucky takes the binoculars, starring at the agent until he shuts the door behind him. He nods his head, setting the binoculars down and looking over to me. "I agree. He's the right height, same hair, and he's just as pale."

"I'm not that pale," Alex mutters, fidgeting where he lays on his stomach next to me. "So when are we doing this?"

"Tonight," I reply fidgeting myself. I accidentally brush my hand with Bucky's and it sends goosebumps up my arm. I try to ignore it. "If he does exactly as he's done the past two days, he'll leave at 9:30 tonight."

Alex turns over so he's laying on his back, moving a piece of grass away from his face. We are currently outside the Pennsylvania facility; laying on our stomachs, spying on the base from a hill behind the perimeter. Something I noticed is how beautiful Pennsylvania is; its colorful trees and flowers beginning to bloom. It's the first time I have sat back and appreciated how truly magnificent America is.

Alex sits himself up, moving over towards a tree. He lays back down on the ground, resting his arms behind his head. "Wake me when its time."

Now that Bucky and I are alone, I take the opportunity to say: "If anything happens, I need you to promise that you'll get Alex and my parents out."

Bucky shakes his head. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

I place my hand on his and I squeeze it tightly, trying to convey my earnestness. "You need to promise me, Bucky. I mean it."

After a long pause, he slowly nods his head. "Alright, I promise. But you have to promise to do the same for me. If something happens, don't come back for me."

I want to argue, and to say exactly what he said to me, but I don't. I use all my willpower to nod my head and say: "I promise."

I don't pull my hand away from his, and neither does he. I think we both know that this is unlike any other base we've been to, and that there is a high chance we could both die. So given that, we don't pull our hands away. We sit there in silence; our combined hands between us, biding our time.

-

"You remember the plan?" I ask Alex, helping him with his tie.

He nods, his forehead beading with sweat. "Yeah, yeah I got it."

At exactly 9:30, the S.H.I.E.L.D agent Maxwell Cooper emerged right on schedule. With one hit to the back of his head, we knocked him out and dragged him over to where we have been camping out for the past few days. He does look a lot like Alex, and thankfully his suit fits well on him. Bucky hands Alex the key card, and the gun Cooper had been carrying.

Alex looks back at the base, before returning his attention back to me. I pull him in for a hug and he wraps his arms around me tightly, resting his head on top of mine. I can tell he's scared, so as he pulls away I rest my hands on either side of his face, like Mama used to do when either of us were upset or scared. "You will be fine, just stick to the plan and we will be right there."

Alex nods, and without another word, makes his way towards the base. I get back onto my stomach and fish for the binoculars inside my bag. Once I have them out, I bring them up to my eyes in time to see Alex swipe the keycard, entering the building.

Bucky helps me back onto my feet, gently squeezing my hands as he assures me; "He'll be alright."

I nod to him, taking a deep breath. "Let's go, I don't want to waste any time."

The two of us make our way to the south side of the building, where two guards are stationed at the door. Sneaking up from around the corner, Bucky and I knock the two men out, making sure to steal their guns before hiding them in the tree line. By the time we return to the door, the keypad has a green light shining above it. Twisting the handle, Bucky and I slip in, finding Alex waiting there. I relax slightly at the sight of him. He gives me a reassuring look, saying: "No one recognized me. I managed to slip into the security room and turn off the alarm systems, but only in the hallways we are gonna use."

"And those are?"

"The hallway just around the corner, which leads right to the stairwell. At the bottom level is where they keep the prisoners. I saw it on a map."

I nod, looking to Bucky, who loads his gun and begins to head down to hall. Alex and I follow after him until we reach the end of the hall, then Alex leads the way down the next hall. The door to the stairwell is right at the end of the hall just as Alex said. The door slightly creaks as Bucky and I pry it open, and I'm thankful that once we set eyes on the stairwell, there doesn't seem to be any guards.

Once we reach the bottom level, Alex uses the keycard again to open the door. We aren't so lucky with guards this time. As soon as the green light flashes, the door swings open and we are met with two guards. Bucky and I take care of them without any struggle; I hit one of the guards with the bud of my gun, slamming his head into my knee and throwing him down onto the floor. Bucky flips the other guard onto his back, before punching him hard in the face.

We are now met with two hallways; one that leads to a set of double doors, with the words 'prison' above them, and the other has a large sign saying 'armory' on the wall, right behind two large wooden doors. We walk over towards the door to the prison, and with a slightly shaking hand, Alex swipes the card again. I glance back at Bucky, giving me a nod as the light flashes green, unlocking the door.

Like other prisons we have been to, specifically the one I found Alex in, there are rows of cells with hallways in the middle. Being able to see better and farther than either of the boys, I can tell there are about ten rows, with cells lining either side of each isle. Alex and I go down the first row, searching each prisoner's face to find our parents. Bucky keeps a little bit further behind us, his gun aimed and his eyes looking out for any unwanted attention. As we pass by the different prisoners, I can sense something is off about them. My animal instincts tell me there's something wrong with a lot of them, which makes me remember that they keep dangerous experiments in here. I can't help but wonder how many of these people were forced into this life, just like my family. And did HYDRA do this to them? Or did S.H.I.E.L.D?

I start to get worried once we reach the sixth row and still have no luck. I start thinking the worst; what if the information I got was wrong? Had they been moved? Are they even in America at all?

"Liebling?" I hear a woman's voice say from two cells in front of us. The woman's voice is so faint. It's probably due to our animal hearing that could we catch the single worded phrase.

That was the German word for 'darling'. I remember Mama used to call Alex and I that. Feeling my heartbeat increase, I rush up to the cell, finding an older woman and man sitting on a cot. Their eyes, dark brown like ours, filled with pain and exhaustion. Their pale skin has wrinkled with time, their once brown hair is streaked with grey. It's Mama and Papa.

Letting out a noise I think might be a sob or maybe a gasp, I kick at the door, watching as it falls to the ground in front of us. Not wasting another second, Mama and Papa walk through their cell doorway, taking a moment to look Alex and I over. I feel tears fall down my face, and I don't have to look to know tears are falling down Alex's face too. Mama places one hand on the side of my face and the other on Alex's, her face breaking as she pulls us both in for a hug. Alex and I hold onto her tightly, never having felt more at home or more relieved. I pull away from her and embrace Papa, who strokes my hair and whispers again and again: "Mein kleines Mädchen." That means; 'my little girl', something he always used to call me.

Papa goes to hug Alex and I embrace my mother fully, feeling her gently pat me on the back. My eyes catch Bucky's stare; his steel blue eyes filled with genuine relief and happiness.

Mama and Papa finally notice his presence, but their eyes don't fall to the smile on his face, but to the gun in his hands. They then looks over to Alex and I, finding we both have guns on us as well. They don't look shocked to see Alex with one, but they both share a look of pain at seeing me like this. I remember Alex said they spent some time in the same base, so no doubt they know what the serum they were injected with does. They know what HYDRA tried to make their son into, and what they think they made their daughter into.

"They gave you the serum." Papa says, but not as a question. "You can turn into animals like...like Alex can."

I nod my head, holding onto both of his hands, trying to give him a reassuring smile. "They did, but I'm okay. I can control it."

Mama's hands cup my face again as she asks, with a slight tremor in her voice. "Did they...did they make you one of them?"

I turn my head and kiss her palm, feeling another tear fall down my face. "They tried...but no. I'm still me, I'm still your daughter."

Papa nods, squeezing my hands. "Always," He reassures me.

Both of my parents eyes fall back onto Bucky, with Papa being the one to ask; "Who is this?"

I wipe away my tears, gesturing between the three of them. "Mama, Papa this is Bucky. Bucky, these are my parents," I say, smiling widely at him. "He's my friend. He helped me find you both, as well as Alex."

"Its a pleasure, sir, ma'am," Bucky says, smiling at my parents. But before either of them can exchange any more pleasantries, he states: "Lena, we really need to go."

I nod, moving towards Mama to help her walk, while Alex does the same for Papa. As we make our way down the isle, Mama smiles to herself, whispering into my ear: "Is he really your friend?"

I give her a curious look. "Yes...why do you ask?"

She shrugs. "He's just very handsome."

I feel myself blushing. "This is hardly the time for that, Mama."

Her eyes are glowing with life despite the pain she is clearly in, and it just reminds me of how strong my mother is. "It was just an observation."

As we make it out of the prison door, two guards appear from the other hallway, their eyes falling onto our parents and then onto us. Bucky knocks the gun out of one of the guards hands, fighting off the man's attacks. The second guard swings at Alex. He to the best of his abilities, begins to fight off the guard, letting Papa lean against the wall for support. Alex blocks the punches of the man for a couple swings, but then the guard's fist hits Alex right in the jaw, making him stumble back. This rather large guard picks Alex by the waist and throws him into the hallway they came from.

The next part happens rather quickly, like I'm watching it on fast forward. When the guard threw Alex through the hall, he hit the double doors that separate this hall from the armory hall. The impact made him break through to the other side. It is then I realize Alex didn't turn off the alarm system for that hallway. As soon as he makes first contact with the door, the alarm system blares in our ears, alerting the entire facility of our presence.


	41. The Breakout

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

Hearing the alarms blaring in my ears, I quickly run over to Alex, helping him onto his feet. Just then, a bullet flies by his head, barely missing his ear. Looking up, I see the shot came from one of the four guards heading our way.

Aiming my gun up, I begin to pick off the guards, shouting to Lena over my shoulder. "Start to get them up the stairs!"

Lena does as I say, grabbing hold of her mother and Alex taking his father. Just as they open the door to get to the stairs however, guards begin pouring out through the other hallway. Lena places her mother against the wall, grabbing her own guns out and beginning to shoot at them. I can tell she wants to shift, but there's no way her parents can make the climb up the stairwell by themselves. She and I share a worried glance, before continuing to shoot at the incoming guards, both of us using the prison doorway for cover.

Alex, still having the gun I gave him days ago, tries to help out, shooting any guard that comes into view. His aim is off though, and he doesn't manage to hit his target once. Once his barrel is empty, he ends up throwing the gun at one of the guards, and this does manage to brush a guard's face.

More guards make their way towards us, with two getting close enough that I nearly get shot in the stomach. I swerve out of the way, shooting one guard in the side of the head while I manage to get the other in the chest.

This next part happens so quickly I can hardly process it. Joseph Roberts, seeing Alex run out of ammunition and seeing Lena struggle to keep the guards at bay, limps over towards the hallway where the guards are coming from. He must have seen that between us and the guards is the armory and wanted to assist his children.

Taking a gun off of the body of one of the dead soldiers, he begins hitting at the door, trying to get it open. Remembering that the alarm system for those doors are still activated, I rush over to stop him, but as I do so he manages to break the lock. Alarms are different for heavily guarded things such as a weapons vault or armory; if you try to break in and not use the key card designed for the lock, not only will the alarm go off, but an explosive will go off as well. This is precisely what happens. I watch as Joseph gets thrown into the opposite wall, shrapnel covering different parts of his chest and legs.

"Papa!" Lena yells, shooting another guard and rushing to her father's side. She helps him up, trying her hardest to get him to the door. Alex, upon seeing his father, does the same with their mother, pulling her through the door and up the stairwell.

I make my way towards the door as well, shooting down two more guards. Before I go after them, I grab onto two grenades I see on the belt of a fallen guard. Placing the grenades in my pocket, I make a plan to use them for our escape.

I run up the stairs, making my way in front of the others, spotting guards coming from the other levels. "Everyone get behind me!" I yell, shooting at a guard who appears out of the next floor's door.

Lena aims her gun down, shooting at the guards who spill in through the door. Bullets fly past her head, and my first instinct is to go back there and help her. As I'm about to, another guard shoots my way. As much as I hate to, I continue on, remembering I'm the only defense between them and her family.

Alex is helping his father walk, while having his mother walk in front of him, doing her best to walk on her own. As we make it to the second landing, I manage to punch one of the guards over the railing, kneeing another in the stomach and smashing his head into the wall. Lena runs out of ammunition in her M16 and is left to shoot the guards with pistols in both hands; ones she picked off of dead guards.

As we make our way up the final flight of stairs, Anika Roberts trips, falling onto the landing. With Lena, Alex, and Jospeh still at the bottom of the second flight of stairs, Anika is exposed to the guard that shoots from the landing above. I see him aim his gun towards her and I run in front of her, jumping just as the bullet is fired.

I hear Lena scream my name as I feel the bullet pierce my stomach, but I also feel it go straight through me. I hear a grunt come from someone other than me as I land on the stairs, flat on my stomach. Holding onto my bullet wound, I turn myself over, finding that the bullet managed to hit Anika in the chest, even with the bullet going through me first.

Alex and Lena rush to their mother's side, and I can see the tears spill over both of their faces. Lena brings her hands up, holding onto their mother's chest and trying to stop the bleeding. I know this won't do anything, and all I can do is sit and watch. Anika coughs up blood, bringing her shaking hands up to her children's faces.

"Be..be happy. Please be happy." She says, her blood covered lips curving into a smile before her arms go limp, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

Lena leans her head against her mother, letting out the most agonizing wail of pain I have ever heard. The sound makes my heart ache in ways I can't explain. Alex sobs onto his mother as well, as does Jospeh. I can see a look of devastation in his eyes that no word in any language could describe. It looks like his very soul has left him. The pain from the shrapnel no longer seems to bother him now that his wife has died.

I shoot at the guard from the above landing and feel glad when my bullet hits him right in the heart. Seeing more guards closing in on us, I rush towards them, shooting a guard that makes it up to the landing from the second level. I grab onto Lena's shoulder, pulling her away from her mother. She resists me, continuing to clutch her mother for dear life. I manage to get hold of her face, shaking her violently. "Lena! Lena, we have to go or we'll all die!"

Lena seems to come back into herself, nodding her head to me almost in a sleep like daze. Alex pulls himself up and grabs onto their father, helping him reach the last flight of stairs. I keep glancing back at him, seeing that his shrapnel wounds are getting worse; soaking his shirt and pants in crimson.

I bash another guard's head into the wall, using his body for cover as I shoot at three guards waiting at the door. Once we make it out of the stairwell, I let the others pass me, covering their backs as we run down the hall. Turning the corner, I let out a sigh of relief as I see the exit. We make our way towards it, with me being the only one to fend off the guards that are now flooding through the stairwell and the other connecting hallways. Lena and Alex both have to carry their father now. His wounds from the pieces of shrapnel are making him weaker by the minute.

Joseph, with his wounds from the blast entering a critical stage, collapses to the floor, not being able to regain the strength to stand up. Alex tries to drag him towards the door, but he's far too heavy. A small line of blood spills from their father's mouth. I can see the panic rise in Alex and Lena's eyes.

Lena leans down, trying desperately to get him to his feet. Each attempt makes him let out a wail if agony. I can see it ripping Lena apart. "Papa, Papa we have to go!"

Jospeh doesn't look at his daughter or his son though, he looks at me. "Hand me those explosives." He says firmly.

I do as the man says, placing the two grenades in his hand. Using his free hand, he touches Alex and Lena's faces gently. "I need you two to get out of here."

Alex and Lena both protest, but he firmly shakes his head. With the last bit of strength he can, he utters these words to his children: "I couldn't protect you...I couldn't protect my-my children from all the horrible things that have happened to you. So-so let me protect you now."

"Papa no. Please no!" Alex yells.

"We can't lose you, too!" Lena shouts at him, but this makes Jospeh smile at his children.

"Your mother and I will always be with you." He tells them. I can see the pain in his eyes, not from his wounds, but from having to say goodbye to his children after just getting them back.

Joseph looks to me then, reaching out for my hand. I grasp it, feeling him grip as tightly as he can muster. "Protect my children," He says. "Promise me, you will keep them safe."

I nod to him, meaning it with every word as I say: "I promise."

Joseph Roberts nods to me, looking one last time at his children; taking in the looks of their faces, their eyes, their hair, as if he's committing their images to memory. "I love you both."

I pull Lena away, trying to drown out the sounds of her screams, trying to drown out the sounds of Alex's. As I pull them both towards the exit, I shoot two guards coming towards us from outside the base. Turning around, I shoot at more guards coming at us from the hall, with a few bullets hitting Joseph. After we make it outside, Lena stops fighting and begins to run alongside me, as does Alex. I hear the explosion go off from behind us, the blast propels us forward a few feet. Feeling my bullet wound growing more and more painful, I grunt as I push myself back onto my feet. I look over at Lena, seeing her lying on the ground, sobbing into her hands. I limp over towards her, wanting nothing more than to collect her in my arms and hold her. But we are still in danger, so I pick her up off the ground, pulling her along with me as I run. Alex stumbles after us, the same sobs wracking his chest as they do his sister.

The explosion bought us enough time to make our way across the rest of the perimeter. We manage to make it up the hill where our car is hidden. But before we get to the car , right as we sprint up the hill, I collapse. I let out a scream as my stomach hits the grass. Lena collapses down onto the ground next to me, looking down at my wound in panic.

Lena shouts my name, her eyes red and her voice raw. Despite her pain, I see a look of great determination in her eyes. She grabs hold of me, and with the help of Alex, gets me into the backseat of the car.

"Alex you need to drive. I have some needle and thread left over from the last injury he had, but we will need to steal more antibiotics."

She gets into the car next to me, letting my head rest against her lap. Alex gets in the front seat, handing Lena her backpack. He shuts the door, turning on the engine and slamming his foot on the accelerator.

Lena fishes through her backpack, glancing back and forth between my wound and the contents of her bag. "The-the bullet went through you...so I don't need to dig anything out." She says, more to herself than to me. I can tell she is trying her best to focus on the task at hand, not the bullet that went through me and into her mother.

I feel the pain grow sharper, letting out another yell. I feel on the verge of passing out, with my eyes beginning to flutter shut. Lena lightly hits my head, shaking me several times. Her voice is strained as she says; "You are not dying on me, James Barnes. You hear me? You can't die," Her tears flow quicker. She leans her forehead against mine, clutching me tightly. "I-I can't lose you too."

I bring my metal arm up, lightly touching her cheek. Her touch almost makes me forget my pain, that is until Alex swerves around a corner. I hold back another wail, bringing my metal hand down to clutch my stomach. She lets go of me, and through my slightly blurred vision, I see her unwrap a small item. She sticks it inside my wound, making me let out a hiss.

I lean up to see what she is using to stop the bleeding; finding a tampon sticking out of my bullet wound. I look back up at her, seeing her shake her head. "Just deal with it. Now stay still."

She holds onto me tightly, stroking pieces of my hair as Alex pulls into the parking lot of a hospital. We are far enough away from the base by now, and even if there are agents coming after us, there's no way they caught sight of what our car looks like.

Alex runs into an ambulance parked a few feet in front of us, returning a few minutes later with a needle injection of antibiotics, antibiotic pills, more thread, and some rubbing alcohol. He gets back in the driver's seat, quickly pulling out of the parking lot. "Will it be enough?" He asks.

Lena nods to him. "Yes, but we need to find someplace. Any place. Just get us out of here."

Lena injects me with the antibiotics in my arm. I let out a loud yell as she takes the tampon out and begins to stitch up the bullet hole. This hurts significantly more than the knife wound.

More tears fall down Lena's face at the sound of my wails. "I know, I know it hurts. It's almost over. I promise you. Just hold on."

I nod to her, focusing on her face, her beautiful face as she works hard at my wound. But feeling the pain and exhaustion come to full intensity, I feel my eyes shut, drifting off to sleep.


	42. A Boy From Brooklyn

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

My eyes burst open. I sit up in the bed I'm laying on, feeling a groan escape my lips from the pain that occurs at my stomach. I look down to see my torso wrapped in bandages. It's then I'm reminded of the bullet, of the prison, of Jospeh and Anika...

Lena rushes to my side, pressing on my shoulders gently, making me lay back down. She mirrors what she did in the car and runs her fingers through strands of my hair. I close my eyes gently, feeling comfort and warmth from her touch. I bring my good hand up, cupping her face gently. Lena gives me a small smile, leaning her head into my touch.

"I am so sorry, I should have done more—"

She shakes her head, placing her hand over mine. "Don't you dare blame yourself. It was nobody's fault. Not mine, not yours, not Alex's."

A tear falls down her cheek and I use my thumb to brush it away. "I may not have any clue what this is like for you, I barely remember my parents, but you won't have to go through this alone. I'm here."

She nods, another tear slipping through her lashes. "I know," she says, bringing my hand away from her face and clasping her hand with mine. She looks towards the doorway, where her brother stands silently. She turns back towards me, wiping at her eyes. "He wants to talk to you."

Great, this will go well. I nod my head to her, watching her slip past her brother and disappear through the doorway. Alex comes into the room slowly, lowering himself down where Lena sat moments before.

"Where are we?" I ask him, leaning up a little. Alex leans over and helps; propping my pillow up so I can sit up properly.

"In an abandoned office building. It hasn't been used in years. We're on the fourth floor. We stole a mattress from a house a few miles from here, along with the pillows and this blanket." He says, touching the blue flowered patterned quilt lying on top of me.

"Lena said you wanted to talk to me? What is it?" I ask, rather taken aback by Alex's lack of hostility or sarcasm towards me.

Alex stares at me for a long moment before looking down at his hands, refusing to meet my gaze. "When I first met you, I didn't trust you because I thought you were going to hurt Soroya. I thought you were one of them. And even after seeing evidence and proof that you meant her and me no harm, I still hated you...but I didn't know why," he takes a pause, his voice growing thick and his eyes brimmed with tears. "But I realized it when our father sacrificed himself. He...he said he couldn't protect us from the horrible things that happened to us. I saw how badly that hurt him. That's the same reason I continued to hate you. You...you were there to protect Soroya when I wasn't. You were the one that kept her safe. Not me. I feel like I failed as her brother. A big brother is supposed to protect his sister and I couldn't do that."

"You were kept and tortured just like she was. You can't blame yourself for that." I tell him, shocked by his vulnerability and honesty.

"But I do, and I don't think I will ever stop. But that isn't your fault. The bottom line is that you did protect her when I wasn't able to. You kept her safe, you cared for her, comforted her, and for that I owe you a debt," he says, closing his eyes and letting a couple years fall down his cheeks. "I am sorry I doubted your allegiance. Any doubts I had about you were gone the moment you took a bullet to try and save my mother."

"Alex, you don't have to—"

"Yes I do. I'm—," He takes a long pause, struggling with this next part. But he takes a deep breath, looking at me dead in the eyes. "Bucky, I'm sorry. You truly are the good man Soroya said you were."

Smiling at him, I bring my hand up to him, watching as he claps it. "Alex, I want you to know that I will always protect your sister. And you as well."

He smiles at me, letting go of my hand. "I appreciate that. But I didn't just come here to make nice." He says, placing a folder on my lap.

With knitted brows I open the folder up. I see several photos of me followed by page after page of information pertaining me. I look back up at Alex, not having to ask the question before he explains:

"You have been out cold for two days, and for those two days Soroya hasn't left your side. Last night while she slept at your bedside, I snuck out and went to a computer store a few miles from here. I managed to find a lot of information on you. Soroya told me that you know about your time in HYDRA, but not your life before. So this is what I could find."

"So it talks about my childhood? My family...my life?"

Alex nods, grabbing onto the papers and flipping to a specific one in the stack, handing it to me. "I found information about one of your siblings: Olivia Barnes. She's still alive."

I stare down at the document, reading every word and trying to process the information it's telling me.

———————————————————————  
name: Olivia Josephine Levinson (née Barnes)  
date of birth: October 1st, 1935  
place of birth: Brooklyn, New York  
mother: Winnifred Barnes  
father: George Barnes  
siblings: James Barnes, Rebecca Barnes, Charles Barnes,  
spouse: Johnathon Levinson  
children: James Buchanan Levinson  
current residence: 401 Maple Avenue, Linden, New York  
———————————————————————

Looking back up at Alex, I give him a curious look. "Are we still in Pennsylvania?"

"No. We're in New York. Paterson, New York to be exact. From here to Linden it's a thirty minute drive."

I shake my head. "I can't leave now, not with everything—"

"Don't worry about us. You need to do this."

"What would I say? I don't even remember her. She may not even remember me."

"You want to find out who you are right? Well the best chance you have at doing that is with your sister," he says, dropping his voice lower as he says; "The pain of knowing your sister is out there and you can't be with her...is too painful to describe. This may be the only chance you have to see her. You'll regret it if you don't take it."

After a long moment I nod, grabbing onto the file and sitting up with Alex's help. The wound stings, but not so bad I can't manage. I realize as I sit up that my clothes have changed. I look up at Alex, feeling completely panicked. "Please tell me you were the one who changed my clothes."

The arrogant smile I'm used to seeing on Alex returns. "Don't worry, she didn't see anything...not that there's much to see—"

"Alright, alright. Thank you, Alex." I say, cutting him off, slightly glaring at him. Placing my metal hand on the wall for support and my other hand on my wound, I slowly make my way towards the door.

"Hey Bucky?" Alex asks.

I turn back around as I make it to the doorway, leaning against the frame. Alex gives me another genuine smile. "Good luck."

I nod to him, feeling, or perhaps not feeling for the first time, the urge to punch Alexander Roberts in the face.

-

I sit in the car parked in front of my sister's house for what feels like hours. As I do so, I sit and read the file Alex gave me, giving me many details about my past. Reading this helps return some memories that I thought had been lost to me forever:

I was an excellent student; having straight A's throughout all the years I was in school. I was also an athlete, which I did know. Apparently I could have made a career out of sports if I had wished it. I never went to college; instead I worked with my father at the hardware store he owned. I did this until I was drafted for the Second World War in 1942, becoming a sergeant for the 107th Infantry Regiment.

My mother was a stay at home mother; raising the four of us as my father worked at his store. She was apparently an advocate for women's rights. She was seen at many rally's and protests. My father supported the movement too, and would watch his children on days a rally was happening so his wife could go. My mother died in 1962, at age seventy two. My father died in 1970, at age eighty two.

My sister Rebecca, who was two years younger than me, married a man named Frank Proctor and worked as a seamstress at a dress shop. She had two kids: a son named Richard and a son named Lucas. Richard married and had a daughter named Kimberly and Lucas had twin boys: Dustin and Archibald. All five are still alive. Rebecca died of lung cancer in 1993 and her husband died in 2003. My brother Charles never married, but ran our father's store until he was drafted for the Vietnam War. He died at the battle of Hamburger Hill. He was forty seven years old.

My youngest sister Olivia, who was seven when I went off to war, was a woman's rights activist like our mother. When she wasn't doing that she worked as a teacher at a local elementary school. She married a fellow teacher there and they had one son together. They named him James Buchanan after me. Her husband died in a car accident eight years ago after forty eight years of marriage. Her son James is still alive; working as a professor in astronomy at the New York University. He's married with a son, who is also named James Buchanan.

I feel an extreme amount of guilt; not only was I not there for my family, but I can't even remember them well enough to mourn them. But even then how do you mourn someone whose been dead for several decades?

I need to stop stalling this encounter. Setting the folder on the passengers seat, I let out a shaky breath, opening the door. I can feel my heart racing in my chest as I walk up to her porch, ringing the doorbell. As I hear footsteps approaching, I feel like I might pass out. I steady myself by placing my metal hand tightly on her doorway.

A short old woman opens the door, her steel blue eyes locking onto my gaze. She gasps, dropping the vase of flowers she had in her hands. She leans against the frame of the door for support, looking at me in complete shock and confusion.

"Bucky?" She asks, half a statement and half a question.

I nod my head. "It's me," I say, watching as my sister raises her hand to cup my face, feeling the warmth of her touch spread through me. "I've come back."


	43. Bucky Barnes

_**POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"So that's what happened to you?" Olivia asks me, starring at me in horror as I finish recounting to her what my life has been for the past seven decades.

I nod to her, leaning back against the couch, watching my sister take it all in. After a moment she stands up, going over to a cabinet under her television. She fishes out a bottle of scotch. Sitting back in the chair across from me, she pours herself a glass, chugging the contents of it. She shakes her head, looking back at me. "That's a lot to take in."

"I'm surprised S.H.I.E.L.D didn't come and ask you questions...given you're my sister."

"Well given what you just told me, I think an eighty eight year old woman is the last thing on their minds," Olivia says with a chuckle. It amazes me how much life is still in her. I see an image of that same life and excitement in a younger version of her. It makes me smile. "So where is this woman and her brother now?"

"Soroya and Alex," I reiterate. "They're at an abandoned building a little ways from here."

"Why?"

"Because they felt I should come here alone."

Olivia leans forward, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair. "Why did you come here, Bucky? Why now?"

I absentmindedly rub my metal hand, feeling the true weight of it for the first time in a while. "I had no idea you existed until maybe a few weeks ago, let alone that you were alive. So I've been reading about our family; about you, me, about our parents and siblings. A lot of that has brought memories back. But reading about events in my life and in all your lives, it feels..."

"Impersonal? Like you're reading from a textbook?" Olivia finishes for me.

I nod. "All these months I've been trying to remember who I am. Even though I've learned about the things I did and the people I had in my life, I still don't know who I am," I tell her, trying to convey my frustration to her. "I don't know my favorite color, my favorite food, I don't know if I'm the same man I'm reading about or I'm the man HYDRA made me. I don't know who I am."

Olivia nods to me, and without another word, gets out of her chair. She walks over to a bookcase that sits next to the couch I currently reside on, sifting through its contents. She takes out what appears to be photo albums, setting them down next to me. She begins exiting the room, saying; "You look through those, I need to fetch something from my room."

I open up the first album, finding a picture of a baby giggling and wearing a white onesie. I look below the photo and it says: James Buchanan Barnes, May 10th, 1917. Two months old.

Flipping to the next page, I find the baby pictures of each of my siblings, including one of all of us at what appears to be the christening of Olivia. I must be eighteen in that picture. Standing next to me is Steve; smiling brightly at the camera.

As I look at the rest of the photos, I find that a lot of them contain Steve too. I remember the board dedicated to me in the Smithsonian saying that Steve and I were inseparable our whole lives. This proves that statement. There's a lot of photos of me with my siblings in each photo, and it's clear the four of us were very close. Even me and little Olivia despite the age difference between us. One picture in particular shows me giving my sister Rebecca a piggy back ride; the two of us are laughing hysterically, not paying attention to the fact our picture is being taken. I get a flash of a memory; remembering that Rebecca wore a perfume that made her smell like peaches. I remember she had made a joke about the weird hairstyle the photographer had, whispering it in my ear as I gave her the piggy back ride. We both busted out laughing when he snapped the picture of us.

Olivia returns, sitting down next to me and smiling to herself. She rests her fingers on the picture below the one of me and Rebecca. This photo is of the two of us; I'm picking Olivia up bridal style, her arms spread as wide as her smile. She looked like a bird that was stretching her wings.

"You used to do that all the time," Olivia comments, glancing up at me. "You would pick me up and spin me around, attacking me in a bear hug whenever you came home from work. Steve used to do the same."

"Steve?"

"Of course. He was like a brother to all of us, especially you. Charlie and I didn't have one childhood memory without Steve in it. Do...don't you remember Steve?

I nod, flipping the page and finding several pictures of the two of us in the backyard as boys. "I do. I just...didn't remember how inseparable we really were until now."

"Losing Steve was just as hard as losing you," Olivia comments, shaking her head. "And it turns out neither of you really died."

"Have you seen Steve?"

To my suprise, she nods. "After the battle of New York City a few years ago, he said he searched to find if anyone he knew was still alive. Once he found out I was, he came and visited. He actually checks up on me every once in a while. He told me I'm even more beautiful than he remembers."

I let out a chuckle. "He's not wrong."

She rolls her eyes. "You both have always been charmers," she says, handing me a wooden box with the initials: JBB engraved on the lid. "This has the stuff we saved of yours."

I set the photo album aside, opening up the box. I find that each item brings an odd mixture of nostalgia and familiarity to me. There's a couple pictures I remember having on my desk at the hardware store: a family picture of my parents, my siblings, and myself. A picture of my mother and father on the porch of our house, which I remember taking on their twentieth anniversary. The last picture is of me and Steve when we graduated high school. I remember seeing a really beautiful girl that day and constantly getting distracted by her, causing this photo to be retaken several times.

There's my dog tags, which I touch gently, getting the image first putting them around my neck at the war office. There's a stuffed bear I remember calling Mr. Brown Bear as a child, and an old watch that most likely stopped working fifty years ago. When I place the watch in my hand though, I remember it was our father's. I remember he gave it to me as a going away present for the war.

"I'm sorry there's not more, but it has been a long time." Olivia apologizes, and I can tell she genuinely feels bad.

I shake my head. "This is more than I could have ever asked for," I assure her, glancing back at the photo album and spotting a picture of a young boy who clearly is not me. I point to it, glancing back at my sister. "Is that your son?"

She nods, a mother's pride shining clear upon her face. "Yes. We named him James Buchanan, after his uncle," Olivia slips her fingers through mine, sitting a little closer to me. "Rebecca's son Richard has James as his middle name. Her son Lucas's middle name is Buchanan. But when my Jamie was born...I wanted to remember you whenever I said his name."

I nod my head, feeling beyond honored. I can't believe both of my sisters named their children after me. It makes it even more sad that I don't have all my memories of them.

"Do you want to know why I named him after you?"

I nod my head.

Olivia smiles at me warmly. "Because you are my brother. You're the brother who played dolls with me even though I could tell you hated it. You're the brother who would braid my hair when everyone else was busy, the brother who bought me cotton candy whenever he went to Coney Island. You are the brother who helped Charlie learn how to play baseball, who took Rebecca to her school dance when no one asked her, the son who helped his mother cook dinner without being asked. You're the man who stuck by his best friend; defending him from every bully who swung a right hook at him, who followed him into battle without hesitation and nearly died because of it," She tells me. I feel my throat growing tight, finding it hard to breath. "You're the man who knows no end to his loyalty, who loved his family and friends unconditionally. You're the man who had the charm and charisma most men would kill to have, who wouldn't hesitate to do what's right. I named my son after you because if he grew up to be half the man you are, then I would be the happiest mother alive."

Tears now threaten to fall. Trying to take a deep breath, I ask: "How do you know that man is still alive? How do you know he didn't die when he fell off that train?"

As a tear silently falls, she wipes it away, saying with no doubt in her voice: "Since you learned who you really are, you have traveled across the world trying to remember who you are. You have been taking down the horrible people who imprisoned you, all those awful men and women in the world. And all the while you have helping a woman you didn't know find her family. And now you're doing everything to keep her and her brother safe. You may not know it, you may not believe it, but you're still the same man. You're still my brother. You're still a good man."

I nod to her, feeling another tear fall down my cheek, then another. Olivia pulls me in for a hug, stroking my hair gently as we embrace. I hold onto her tightly, getting another flash of her when she was younger. I am presenting her with a large blue cotton candy after getting back from Coney Island. She smiles widely at me, placing a large kiss on my cheek before running over to the kitchen table to begin devouring it. It's a small, insignificant memory to some, but it means everything to me.

The two of us sit there for a long time. It doesn't feel like we haven't seen each other in seven decades, or like time has passed at all. In this moment, I'm simply Bucky Barnes, and she is simply my sister.

For a while she and I sit on the couch; her telling me stories about her life and my life. She tells me about Rebecca and Charles, and how much they missed me everyday. She talked about our mother and father a lot too. I could tell Olivia missed them dearly. After a while, I find myself missing them too.

The sun begins to set and I know that it's time to go back. The thought of leaving her makes me anxious and quite sad. But I know the longer I stay here, the more in danger she is. I have to go.

"I want you to promise me," she says, placing her hand over my heart. "Promise me you won't spend your whole life running from your past or letting it haunt you. Promise me you'll be happy. Promise me you'll find peace, that you'll find a home."

I lean forward and place a kiss on her cheek, clutching her fingers and holding them to my heart. "I promise." And as much as I don't believe it's possible, I hope that I can fulfill my promise to her someday.

-

When I drive back to the abandoned office building, I find Alex and Lena sitting at an old conference table. They're eating sandwiches they must have stolen from a store. Both of them glance up at me as I walk into the room. There isn't any light in Lena's face and barely any in Alex's. Seeing her this way breaks me, and I want so badly to take her pain away. But I know I can't. All I can do is be there for her while she bares the pain.

Alex holds a sandwich up and I take it from him, sitting next to Lena. She looks me over briefly, clearing her throat before asking: "How did it go?"

"It was great...I really do remember who I am," I say, starring into her puffy eyes. "And it feels damn good."

Lena looks between Alex and me, shaking her head. "What do we do now? Where do we go?"

I shrug, taking a bite of my sandwich. "Doesn't matter," I say, looking from Lena to Alex. "As long as we're together."

Lena's eyes light up briefly, and for a long moment, our gazes are locked. So much is unsaid, but we don't need words to convey what we both know; that as long as we're together, everything would turn out alright. No matter what we face.


	44. A Framed Man

**PART III: THE FUTURE**

_two years later..._

_**  
POV:** _   
**Bucky**

"Why does there have to be so many flavors of Pringle's?" Lena asks rhetorically, starring at the options in front of her.

I shrug, grabbing a bag of Chex Mix. "They make that many just to torture you."

She nods in agreement, sighing as she grabs onto one of the containers randomly. Alex walks over towards us, his arms filled with several artificially flavored items. I don't even comment on his selection of food. I just place the couple things Lena and I picked out and place it on the counter, watching as Alex dumps his pile on top.

The cashier, a woman in her mid twenties, looks up at me. She meets my eyes for a mere second before letting out a scream of terror, bolting out of the 7/11. I look back to Lena and Alex, expecting them to share my look of confusion. They simply stare in shock at the tv screen on the other side of the counter.

The news is playing, the volume just loud enough so we can hear the latest report from Vienna: it shows that a bomb was set off at the signing of something called the Sokovia Accords. An image pops up on the screen; an image of someone in a parking garage, an image of the primary suspect of the bombing: me.

Lena and Alex both look to me, and without another word, the three of us sprint out of the store. We hop into the car and drive away as quickly as possible. We need to find somewhere safe. We may have been on the run before, but that was just from HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D, now the whole world is looking for the Winter Soldier.

-

"What are we going to do?" Lena asks, pacing the length of the room. We managed to find an old cabin in the woods. We have been hiding out here for the past hour. That's one of the perks of Germany; lots of forest that provide lots of places to hide.

"We don't have to do anything," I say from where I stand, leaning against the wall. "I have to leave."

Alex looks at me in bewilderment, sitting up from where he sat on the floor against the wall. "What the hell do you mean?"

"Being on the run from two fallen government agencies is different than being on the run from the U.N.. They're not going to stop looking for me. They are guaranteed to find me, especially since they've made this public. Once they get me they're not going to listen to what I have to say. They'll lock me up and throw away the key. You don't deserve that fate."

Alex takes a step towards me, crossing his arms. "Yeah and neither do you."

"This is my choice," I say firmly. "I made a promise to your parents I would protect you. This is how I can do that."

"That's bullshit!" Lena says, marching up to me and stopping maybe two feet from my face. "We are in this together. If it were the other way around and it was me being framed by the U.N., would you let me leave you?"

She had me there. I shake my head, answering her honestly. "No...no I wouldn't."

"Exactly. So whatever happens to you, we will be there by your side."

I know I will never win this argument with her or with Alex. So I simply nod my head, doing one of the hardest things I've ever done: I lie to her. "Alright, then we'll have to go somewhere far from here. It will be dark soon, so we should leave in the morning and head for someplace remote."

Lena, visibly happy to think she won the debate, nods her head to me. "There are two rooms here, so you and Alex get some sleep. At midnight I'll wake you up to take the next watch."

I nod to her, feeling my heart break every second I spend lying to her. But I know this has to be done. "Alright, wake me at midnight." I tell her, glancing between her and Alex one more time before I make my way towards one of the rooms, shutting the door behind me.

-

I sit there for the next few hours, writing over and over again in one of my notebooks; trying and failing to find the right words.

Me staying here is out of the question. I have to leave. I know as soon as she finds out I lied to her, she'll be heartbroken. As will Alex. I also know that the U.N. will definitely find me, and I would rather break their hearts than have them captured or killed.

I can't leave without saying goodbye however, so the last few hours I have before I leave, I try to say the things I could never muster the courage to say. I try to say the things I may not ever get the chance to say again.

Lena & Alex,  
Lena were right that if you were the one being framed, I would not want to leave your side for a moment. But I also know that you would do whatever you could to keep me and Alex safe. Even if that meant leaving. That is exactly what I'm doing.

I pause writing for a moment when I hear noise come from the other side of the door. I realize with a soft smile that Lena has started to sing. It makes writing the rest of the note that much harder.

Alex, I know that you will do everything in your power to keep Lena safe. And she the same for you. I want you to promise me that you'll not come after me. You will listen to me more than she will when I say that you will fail. You will be killed if you go after me. I want you both to continue on without me. You and her need to get out of Europe and keep running until they can no longer find you. Maybe one day you can have the life you both deserve.

I shut my eyes gently as I listen to the soft hum of her voice, feeling tears prickle in my eyes as I try to finish writing.

Lena, I know you'll hate me for leaving you. But if I have to pick between hurting you or keeping you alive, then I have no choice. I want you to know that the last two years have been the best in my whole life. That's because of you. I knew how I felt about you from the moment you sang Moon River to me in that hotel in England. From that moment on, my heart has been inexplicably yours. I never told you because you encompass the good in humanity and in the world. I have never felt like I deserve you. I still don't. You deserve to find a man you can give you a normal life, one that will make you happy. That's all I want for you.

Keep each other safe, keep each other alive.  
Yours,  
Bucky

I hear footsteps approaching my door, so I quickly stuff the note under my pillow and pretend to sleep. After a moment I feel Lena's warm touch on my shoulder. I open my eyes, and despite the dim light, I can see her face perfectly. It is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I use all my willpower to control my voice as I say: "Get some sleep. I'll wake you in the morning."

She nods, buying my lie and making her way to the other side of the bed, lying down and resting her head a few inches from mine. I get out of the bed, picking up my backpack and walking towards the door. I watch from the doorway as she shuts her eyes, waiting a few minutes until she's completely out. I gently take the note from under her pillow and I lay it down next to her, leaning forward and kissing her gently on the head. I force myself to walk forward, to shut the door behind me.

Grabbing onto my backpack, I make my way towards the car, feeling the tears finally spill down my cheeks as I start up the engine. I force myself to not turn back as I drive away, as I force myself leave Alex and Lena behind.


	45. Wakanda

_a few days later..._

__**  
POV:**   
**Bucky**

I watch as Steve lifts me off the ground, grunting slightly as he does so. I clutch his shoulder tightly, glancing at the place where my metal arm used to be.

Steve and I begin to slowly make our way out into the snow when Tony Stark shouts to us: "That shield doesn't belong to you! You don't deserve it. My father made that shield!"

Steve stops his pace, and with a loud clunk, drops his shield to the ground. He doesn't look back as he continues to help me out of the Siberia base. I can see how heartbroken he is as we make our way across the thick blanket of snow.

Near the Quinjet we find someone we were not expecting; King T'Challa. I feel a sinking feeling in my chest, knowing Steve and I are far too weak to fight him off. He doesn't look hostile though, instead he looks guilt ridden. In his arms is Zemo, who struggles against the king's iron grip. T'Challa walks over towards us, Zemo still being held, and bows his head to the both of us.

"I am sorry," he says sincerely. "I heard what this man said about Vienna. I deeply regret my actions and I hope you can forgive me."

Before Steve can open his mouth, I take a step towards the king, bowing my head to him in return. "There is nothing to forgive, your highness."

T'Challa gestures to Zemo. "We need to deliver this man to the United Nations. But after we do so, I would like to invite you to come back to Wakanda with me. Not only will it be safe for you there, but we have the top scientists and doctors in the world. Maybe they can find a way to help you."

The thought of never having to be controlled by my passwords again is an intriguing one, but seems too good to be true. But it doesn't look like I have a choice. "I would be honored."

T'Challa smiles at me, and together the three of us, with Zemo being dragged behind, get inside the Quinjet.

T'Challa places a hand cuff on one of Zemo's hands and the other on the metal part of the backseat. He also wraps cloth around his mouth. I'm thankful for that. I don't think I could handle hearing that slimy man speak another word after what he just did.

Steve helps me sit down, taking the seat next to me. T'Challa climbs into the pilot's seat, starting up the engine and taking off.

Steve keeps glancing at me in concern. After a while I place my now only hand on his shoulder. "I'm not the one you should be worrying about. Now because of me you're a fugitive, you have no home, no—"

"Hey, don't blame yourself for this. This would have happened no matter what. I couldn't sign the Accords and because of that I would have had to leave everything behind. What happened wasn't your fault."

I shake my head. "It doesn't feel that way."

"I know it will be hard, but eventually you have to accept that what happened to you wasn't your fault. If you ever want to have a future, you have to let go of the past."

I smirk to myself, knowing that is exactly what Lena would tell me. This brief happiness is followed by crushing sadness. Steve notices this.

"What is it?"

I take a moment to contemplate telling him this, but I remember how much he gave up for me, how much he truly cares about me. "I didn't tell you fully about what I've been doing these past two years."

He listens intently as I detail to him how I met Lena. I tell him about our traveling over Russia and Europe, about all the bases and houses we raided, about Alex and the tragedy of their parents. I don't hold back as I tell her how much I grew to care for her, for both of them.

This whole time T'Challa has been listening as well. I see pity and compassion cover his whole face, but once he catches my gaze he looks back at the sky around us.

Steve doesn't speak until I'm done, and even then he takes a moment to let this all sink in. "Where are they now?"

"When we found out I was being framed, I left them in this cabin we were hiding out in. I took the car, so I don't know if they're there or not. I told them to leave and find somewhere safe, but knowing them I doubt they listened to me."

T'Challa lands the ship, silently taking Zemo off, leaving Steve and me back in the jet.

Steve takes our moment alone to ask me: "What is she like?"

I smile to myself, seeing her image surface into my mind, instantly putting me at ease. "She's strong, not just physically, but she can carry such weight on her shoulders. She also isn't afraid to show her true emotions, she's not afraid to be vulnerable. She's smart, funny, has excellent taste in music, has a voice that sounds eerily like Vera Lynn. She's so compassionate and kind to everyone she meets. She also has this faith and idealism that can't be broken no matter how horrible people are to her. She truly believes in the good in the world, even after being held by HYDRA for fourteen years."

Steve smiles warmly at me. "She sounds wonderful."

I nod in agreement. "She is. She's the best person I know...besides you."

Steve clasps my shoulder, squeezing me tightly. "And what about her brother?"

I let out a chuckle. "Alex is a cocky, arrogant, stubborn, independent, surprisingly sweet and unconditionally loyal man."

Steve smiles sadly to himself. "I have met one or two men like that." I have no doubts he's thinking about Stark.

T'Challa returns to the jet, and before he starts the engine up again, he stops in front of me. "You said your friends are on the run? They're being chased after too?"

I nod. T'Challa shakes his head, saying simply: "Then we will bring them to Wakanda too. Do you know where to find them?"

"More or less...but can you take me to Wakanda first and then get them? I...I can't face her right now."

Steve looks at me in confusion. "Is it because you're afraid she'll be angry with you?"

I shake my head. "No, no it's because I was reset yesterday. I am not risking anything happening to either of them."

T'Challa nods to me, returning to the pilot seat and once again taking off. I turn to Steve, feeling relief knowing that Alex and Lena will be taken to Wakanda. "I can show you where the cabin was that we stayed at. If they aren't there, i would expect that they were making their way to come and rescue me. I know they'll have been keeping track of the news, so they should be somewhere between Germany and London. They would have stolen another car. We always slept in abandoned buildings or low grade motels."

Steve nods, walking towards a pocket on the side of the jet and fishing out a folding map. He lays it down on the floor and hands me a pen. I circle the area the cabin was at and some locations I think they could likely be. Once I'm done, Steve takes the map and pockets it, his voice firm and very serious as he says: "I promise you I will find them and bring them there. I promise I'll keep them safe."

Feeling more gratitude for Steve than I ever had before, I smile at my best friend. "Thank you."

"Now, will she shoot me on sight? I don't want to scare her."

"She knows who you are. But even if she didn't, she wouldn't harm you without hearing what you had to say first."

I reach into my shirt pocket, bringing out the family photo I took from Olivia's house; one of me, Steve, Olivia, Rebecca, and Charles.

I hand it to Steve, watching him stare down at the photo, smiling sadly. "You saw Olivia?"

I smile as well. "I did...Steve thank you for looking after her."

Steve nods, smiling again as we both sit back down on the seats. "She's family...you're family. It's the least I can do." He says, and I know he's talking about more than just Olivia.

As we continue our trip to Wakanda, I start to realize that Lena coming to Wakanda means that after I'm fixed, I'll see her again. This fills me with happiness and fear all at the same time. When we see each other again, since I know she's read my letter, she'll tell me how she feels. I don't think anything has ever terrified me more. But that doesn't matter now. Whether she hates me or still cares for me, she'll be safe. And that's what matters.


	46. Hidden

_two days later..._

__**  
POV:**   
**Soroya**

"Alright, now shift back." I say to Alex, watching the eagle in front of me shift back into a human, his usual smug smile absent from his face. I turn around as he gets his clothes back on, waiting a few moments before turning back around. He's rubbing at his eyes, scrunching his forehead.

"How do eagles handle seeing this intensely?" He asks me, rubbing his eyes again. "It's giving me a headache."

The motel we are staying at is by far the most disgusting we have been in, therefore it is perfect for Alex's training. Now that he can stay himself while in another form, I'm having him change into different animals. He's never shifted into a hawk before. I remember the sensory overload I had when I did it the first time.

"Now tell me what you see."

Alex glances around be room, his face twisting in disgust. "I can see a stain at the bottom layer of the carpet. I think it's orange juice. I can also see a small scratch on the picture frame next to your head. Speaking of your head you have a mole behind your earlobe you should get checked out—"

I nod to him, having not heard a word of what he said. "Good good. We..we're done for today." I mutter, sitting down on the gross mattress next to him.

Alex wraps an arm around me, squeezing my shoulders. I lean my head against his shoulder, welcoming his effort to make me feel better. Even if it doesn't work.

"I miss him too." Alex says softly.

I scoff, shaking my head. "I don't know if I'm more angry at him for leaving or more sad because he left."

"I think it's safe to say both. But he was right; you know you would have done the same."

I sigh, nodding once. "I know, but that doesn't mean I still can't be upset with him."

"Of course not," Alex assures me, rubbing my shoulder. "But we know he escaped from the U.N., so for now we know he's alright."

"Just because he isn't being kept by the U.N. doesn't mean he's safe. I just hate the thought of him being out there all by himse—"

A knock comes to the door and it makes both of us jump. I press my finger against my lip to tell Alex to stay quiet. I grab my gun off my bedside table, raising it as I walk towards the door, just as another knock comes. Twisting the knob, I swing the door open, finding that the barrel of my gun is pointing at Captain America's face.

I lower my gun, knowing if Steve Rogers is at my door, that can only mean one thing. Panic fills me to my very core. "Where is he?"

Steve smiles at me and to my brother, brushing past me and walking into the room. "Just to be clear, you are Soroya and Alex Roberts, yes?"

I nod, shutting the door and walking towards him. "Yes, now please tell me if he's okay."

Steve keeps a calm tone as he rests a hand on my shoulder. "He's fine. He's well hidden. He sent me to get you."

Alex lifts both arms and waves them around, getting both of our attentions. "Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

I sigh, gesturing to the man in front of me. "This is Steve Rogers. If he's here, then Bucky clearly told him about us. If that's the case, then he knows where Bucky is. So please, for the love of god, tell me what has happened to him!"

Alex holds his hands up and sits down, staying silent and allowing Steve to speak. "When he was taken by the U.N., the man who framed him was able to reset him. So he escaped by himself. But I got hold of him and when he came back into himself, he told me that the man had asked him for information on the HYDRA base in Siberia."

Confusion washes through me before I realize why the man would want to find Siberia. "The other Winter Soldiers."

Steve nods to me, surprised I know about that. "Yes. After a brief fight with the other members of my team, we managed to get there. It turns out the man just wanted to tear apart the Avengers, using Bucky to do it."

"How?"

"During his time in HYDRA...Bucky killed Howard Stark and his wife. Tony saw the security footage of Bucky killing them. It was quite the fight."

I shut my eyes, knowing the pain he must have gone through. I've had to watch my parents die and I don't wish that pain on anyone. I also feel pain for Bucky, not only did he have to relive that, but he nearly got killed for something he wasn't in control of.

"The king of Wakanda, that's a country in Africa, offered to keep Bucky there and help him get rid of the passwords for good. He's there now. He asked to be put under cryogenic sleep until they find the cure for his brainwashing. Bucky told us about you two and King T'Challa offered to have you both take refuge in Wakanda as well."

I can't help the tears that prickle into my eyes, wishing more than anything that I had been there for him the last few days.

"Why didn't he come and help you get us?" Alex asks.

Steve looks over at my brother, smiling lightly as he explains: "Since he was reset a few days ago, he didn't want to risk either of you getting hurt."

I wipe away a tear that threatens to fall down my cheek, taking a deep breath. "Are you going to stay in Wakanda too? From what you've told me it looks like you are a fugitive now, too."

"We should all wear matching jackets." Alex comments, now lounging on the bed.

I ignore my brother, and so does Steve. "No...no I can't. I have to get my other teammates out of custody. I need to help them get safe too."

I nod, admiring his loyalty. From what Bucky has told me and from what I've heard of him, Steve Rogers definitely lives up to his reputation.

I go over towards the wall and grab both of our backpacks, chucking Alex's over to him. I make my way past Steve, opening the door. I look back at the two men and say with firm determination: "Take us to Bucky. Take us to Wakanda."

Without another word, Steve Rogers heads out the door, with Alex and I following closely behind him. Parked next to our stolen car is a large and extremely advanced looking plane. And with the push of a button, a ramp falls to the ground. I slip my hand into Alex's, and together we walk hand in hand into the plane, watching as Steve Rogers lifts us off the ground, shooting us off into the sky.


End file.
